Don't you want me?
by lotzalove
Summary: Inspired by "Don't You Want Me" by Human League. Greg centric, slightly AU fic. When Greg gets involved with a girl, is she worth the trouble she can get him into? And sometimes, can the wrong girl be the right girl after all? Please review! Complete!
1. We are young

**Disclaimer: I don't own CSI or any of the songs used in this.**

**The song this fic is based on is called Don't You Want Me by Human League. Also in this chapter, the song We Are Young by Fun is used. Listen to tehm both, they're great. This fic is semi-AU. I had to make Catherine ten years younger for this story, and I completely changed Greg's past. He's still part Norwegian but e didn't got to Stanford. All the charecters you don't recognise are my own creations. The first chapter takes place when Greg is twenty two.**

_You were workin' as a waitress in a cocktail bar_

_When I met you_

* * *

Boy, she was hot. Greg knew she could probably feel his eyes on her, but he couldn't look away. She was different. The other girls here, they were all T&A. This girl was more then that. She turned around again, so she was now facing him. Even from twenty feet away and with all the people dancing in between them, her blue eyes shot through him like lasers. Behind her eyes, there was passion, intensity, fire.

"Hey, G, dude, that hot redhead girl is making eyes at you!"

The wolf whistles began.

"She is smokin' man, what does she see in you?"

"Shut up guys." Greg said playfully, finally breaking eye contact with the girl and turning to look at his friends. "Come on let's go get some drinks."

As they made their way through the dancefloor and over to the bar, Greg thought about the girl. He couldn't explain it. They immediantly had some sort of a connection, and he couldn't figure out why. He'd admired the girls here before. Tanya, Izabella, Zara and Sasha had all occupied his thoughts for a night at a time. This must be his twentieth time coming here, and he'd never seen this girl before. Soemthing gave him a feeling she wasn't new though, she looked experienced. He wasn't sure what was stopping him going over to this girl and handing her ten dollar bills like his friends would surely be doing, like he'd done himself the last weeks. He just knew it wouldn't feel right.

"What can I get you sir?" A tanned blonde purred into his ear, making him jump.

"The usual for us!" one of his friends piped in.

"Certainly sir" the waitress replied, ducking under the bar and pouring their usual drinks.

"So man, it is true that you actually didn't fail any of your finals?" Greg asked Joey, trying to get the redhead out of his head.

"Hey dude, I told you I wouldn't. I can party all night, not do a bit of work and still pass everything." Joey said with a grin, as the waitress returned with their drinks.

"Hey bro, you were sweating it this past month. Hardly left the dorm." Matt jeered, cuffing him on the arm.

"Come on dude, none of us have gone out in ages. We were all starting to forget what the French Palace even looked like!" Joey shot back, taking a gulp of his drink.

"There's a difference between studying for finals and doing all the work you should have been doing the last four years buddy!" Karl insisted. "Although some of us obviously didn't even need to study!"

Four pairs of eyes were immediantly turned on Greg.

"Guys, cut it out. We all passed our finals remember?" he said uneasily.

"Yeah we didn't all ace them all like you did bro" Matt grinned at him.

"What are you gonna do with your science degree dude?" Joey asked him, curious. "I'm gonna do lectures and shit."

"Trust you, buddy" Karl said to Joey. "I'm gonna be a high school teacher."

"I think I might be a historian or something" Matt said "Greg?"

"I wanna do something with DNA, maybe research it or try to come up with a better way to retrieve it and stuff."

"Sure." Matt sighed. "Make life easier for the cops."

"Whatever man, just as long as it's not the government, am I right?" Greg asked.

"Hell yeah dude, just not the government!" Joey yelled.

Matt and Karl laughed in agreement and the four friends looked around what used to be their favourite hangout, suddenly aware that this would probably be the last time they ever came here together again.

"Finals are done, we move out of the dorm tomorrow, we start looking for real jobs and say goodbye to driving to nowhere in particular and singing til the sun comes up." Karl said sadly. "The end of an era."

"No way." Greg interjected. "The start of the rest of our lives."

"We gotta drink to that." Matt yelled.

As the four college roomates finished their drinks, the speakers began blasting out what they had always called 'their song', no matter how gay it made them sound. And so, depositing their empty glasses on the bar counter, they got up to dance for the last time.

_Now I know that I'm not_

_All that you got_

_I guess that I, I just thought_

_Maybe we could find new ways to fall apart_

_But our friends are back_

_So let's raise a cup_

'_Cause I found someone to carry me home_

_Tonight_

_We are young_

_So let's set the world on fire_

_We can burn brighter than the sun_

_The world is on my side_

_I have no reason to run_

_So will someone come and carry me home tonight_

_The angels never arrived_

_But I can hear the choir_

_So will someone come and carry me home_

_Tonight_

_We are young_

_So let's set the world on fire_

_We can burn brighter than the sun_

As the last noted of the song drifted out of the speakers, they started making thier way towards the door. He didn't know why he turned around, but he did. Greg saw her again. She was twisting around the pole, and she tossed her red hair over her shoulder. Her eyes met his for a second.

_So if by the time the bar closes_

_And you feel like falling down_

_I'll carry you home tonight_


	2. We grow up

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own CSI. **

**In this chapter, Greg is twenty seven and Catherine is thirty four (I made her ten years younger so she's only seven years older than Greg now.) This takesplace during Scuba Doobie Doo in season two, and the script was taken directly from that episode. I just added in a few extra bits.**

_I picked you out, I shook you up and turned you around_

_Turned you into someone new_

* * *

Catherine Willows walked into the break room. She finally found him, pouring himself a cup of Blue Hawaiin coffee,

"Hey, coffee boy. Where's my DNA? Cigarette butt? Match book time-delay device? Hair spray? Any of this sound familiar?" Catherine asked the young lab tech.

"Bags under the eyes, coffee cups, stressed face. Any of this look familiar?" Greg retorted. Just to be safe, he added "I'm working on it."

Catherine narrowed her eyes at him. "Did Grissom put his stuff in front of mine?" she asked him.

"No. I'm working on your case" Greg insisted, he couldn't resist adding "With Nick."

Now Catherine was really not happy. Giving him one more eveil glare she stormed out of the break room in search of Nick. He had some serious explaining to do.

* * *

She found him in the layout room, examining a burnt oxygen tank. "I just talked with your partner. Working this case without me, huh?"

Nick didn't take his eyes off the tank. "Hmm?"

Catherine tried to resist raising her voice. "Greg Sanders?"

Nick looked up at the angry woman and chuckled lightly. "Leggo my Greg-o. He's a CSI wannabe. Please. Check out the bottom of this tank."

Catherine decided to let it drop. She followed his gaze."Fissure." She said.

Nick grinned. "We had a little explosion here" he said, reaching to uncap the dropper from a bottle of acid nearby

Catherine nodded. "That explains a lot. Acid etching. Not bad."

"Figure if I can get the serial number off the tank get on the horn with some surf shops track the renter through a credit card."

"Pretty smart thinking there, partner." Catherine smiled at him.

"Well, we still haven't ID'd the vic, but ... it's worth a shot." Nick said, smiling back.

"Okay, N-4-double oh-2, let's see what kind of lead you are."

* * *

Nick had been taking a swab of the soap residue from the dive suit. He hadn't noticed Greg standing in the doorway.

"Something on your mind, Greg?" Nick asked.

"No. I heard about your case. Sounds interesting." Greg said hopefully.

Nick smiled at his enthusiasm. "Yeah. You want to make yourself useful, drop this off at trace."

Nick handed the container with swab within to Greg. Sighing, Greg takes it from him.

"Must be some kind of soap. Robbins got me halfway there." Nick muttered to himself, Greg Sanders forgotten once again.

Greg looked at the bag Nick had given him. "Bet it's liquid dishwashing soap." he said.

Greg had turned to leave and was nearly to the door with Nick had stopped him.

"Yeah?" He'd said, looking curious. "State your source."

Greg came back over to the table, eager to prove himself. "Well, you know I used to do a little diving myself actually. Belize, Maui, Great Barrier Reef ... Okay, maybe I took that one a little too far." Greg kicked himself mentally. _He's finally listening to you, don't screw it up_. He continued. "But the point is, that these rubber suits aren't very easy to put on. Neoprene and skin need a little romance to get together. And a capful of liquid soap works like a charm."

Nick didn't answer but he seemed gratified. Greg, realising his chance, sat down next to Nick.

"So, you check this safety valve?" He asked.

Nick nodded. "Sealed closed."

"And what about the pressure gauge?"

"Hose melted. Catherine found it at the base of the tree."

Ignoring the metion of his assistant supervisor, Greg took a look at the evidence. "It's 3,000 psi; that tank was full." He'd said.

Nick had shrugged. "Guess it's like anything pressurized. These things blow for one of two reasons: Too much air or too much heat."

Nick stopped as if he'd suddenly thought of something. He had looked at Greg who met his gaze, confused.

Nick smiled. "You just made yourself useful, my friend."

Greg had tried to hide his joy. "Yeah?" he said, in a way he hoped was casual.

"Oh, yeah." Nick had said.

Greg was still confused. "How?" he asked.

That's when Nick had opened up the case file. He'd laid it out on the table and bit by bit, he explained the case to Greg.

* * *

Now he pressed his ear to the door.

"I just...your partner..." He heard Catherine say.

He couldn't hear Nick's reply.

"Greg Sanders?" Catherine asked.

He waited for Nick to tell her how helpful he'd been, how he wasn't such a bad guy, how he was acually very intelligent and handsome, too.

"Hey leggo my Greg-o" _you tell her Nick! _"He's a CSI wannabe. Please." Greg's heart dropped down to his stomach. _A CSI wannabe, _he'd callled him. That's all he thouht of him as. A wannabe, a little kid, someone who tells you something interesting so you act nice to them for a while, then you just discard them like an old broken toy. Greg was not a toy. He was a DNA lab tech, had been for four years now. But Nick and Catherine, they were CSI's. They were in charge.

Greg stood up, to avoid falling in to the conference room when the door opened. He went off to run his - _no Catherine's_ DNA for her.

* * *

A few minutes later he saw Catherine walking past his lab. He got up and ran out to her.

"Hey, yo, Cat ..."

Catherine stopped and turned around, flinching at the all-too-familiar nickname.

"I'm going to forget that you called me that." she said icily.

Greg sighed. He felt tempted to walk right back into the lab, with her precious results, but she was his boss. "Sorry. Um, I've got a full profile on our - "your" torch. I pulled his DNA off of a cigarette butt. Lucky for us, he's a wet-lipped smoker."

Catherine looked down at the results. She nodded. "So, you've done your job. I got to go do mine."

Greg ignored the dig. He knew what she meant. Next time, he'd stick to his job, and let Catherine do the investigating.

"Just get me something we can compare it to." he said, hoping to sound easygoing.

She smiled patronisingly at him and left.

_She never even said thank you. _Greg thought, and this time he wasn't talking about the case.


	3. Empty chairs

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own CSI**

**This chapter is set two months after the first chapter, Greg is still twenty two.**

_Now five years later on you've got the world at your feet_

_Success has been so easy for you_

* * *

He hadn't been here in a while. Greg, Joey and Matt had to remind the waitress what "the usual" was. It felt strange only ordering three drinks.

"Em... a toast to Karl?" Matt asked.

"Yeah, hope you're having a great time at Universtiy of Washingtoon, getting your teaching degree." Greg added.

The three men tipped their glasses upwards and downed their first drinks.

"Let's go take a look at the talent?" Joey asked.

They went over to the stage and looked at the girls dancing around the poles. Greg saw Tanya. She must have changed from Saturday's Fridays. The last time they'd all gone out together, that was their first time going out on a Friday night. He knew one other girl who danced on Friday's but she didn't seem to be here. Then, a girl with cotton candy hair and a miniature silver skirt went backstage. She was replaced by a redhead. THE redhead.

"Hey dudes, what do you think of her?" Joey asked, pointing to the girl.

"Wait a minute, isn't she the girl from last time Sanders? The one making eyes at you?" Matt asked.

"Woah dude, it is. Sorry, I'll back down." Joey reassured him.

"Come on bro, go introduce yourself." Matt said, patting him on the back.

So Greg fought his way throught the crowd of admirers the girl had gathered til he was right at the front. She bent down.

"What's your name?" she asked him, her pink tongue taunting him as it moved around her mouth.

"Greg. Greg Sanders." he told her. "What's yours?"

"You can call me Cat." She said, laying a hand on his shoulder. He felt electricity surge through him at her touch.

"Yo, man, get the hell outta the way, we wanna talk to her too!" An indignant guy yelled from behind Greg. But when he moved over tolet the guy in front, Cat stood up straight again and continued her dance. Greg went to find his friends. He couldn't keep watching her, it was driving him crazy. He was burning up with desire, not just to touch her and kiss her but to know her, to understand her. It was crazy.

He found Matt and Joey back at the bar.

Joey proclaimed another toast.

"To Matt, for getting engaged and getting his job at the History museum. We're gonna miss you when you move to Chicago, but we know you're gonna be happy."

Matt had finally proposed to his high school girlfriend, Maria. The wedding was the next day and so he'd come out to enjoy being a free man for the last time. They'd already bought a house in Chicago and Matt had been offered a job at the museum there. Combining History and Science were his two favourite things so he'd accepted. They were all happy for him.

"And to Greg and Joey for getting jobs doing testing at the university research centre" Matt added, but nobody wasgoing to steal his thunder on his night. Not Karl, who'd moved to Washington to do his teacher training and bought a yorkshire terrier to share his new flat. Not Greg who'd found a big apartment and a job as a DNA anaylisist. Not Joey who'd moved in with his girlfriend, bought a car and worked as an assistant radioactivity anaylisist. Not that girl who was still looking at Greg.

"Come on guys, I'll buy the next round of drinks." Greg offered, rooting aound for hid wallet. He paid for the drinks, and as he was putting his money bak in his jeans, he felt something else in his pocket. A pink post-it.

_'I like your hair, muy caliente' _it read, in neat italic handwriting. It was signed, _Cat._

_How did she do that? _He wondered. He hadn't seen her slipping anything into his pocket. It was strange. But sexy. Very Sexy. Muy Caliente.

When he looked up again, she was gone, replaced by Tanya. So, putting her to the back of his mind, he knocked back his third drink of the night.


	4. In my head

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own CSI **

**This chapter is set during Slaves of Las Vegas in season two. Also, I just want to point out that beacuse this ia an A.U. story, I am using te script from te actual episodes, but things tat happened in the episodes don't neccesarily happen in my story. So don't take anything for granted just beacuse you saw it in CSI.**

_But don't forget, it's me who put you where you are now_

_And I can put you back down too_

* * *

Greg was grounding up something in a mortar when Nick walked in and peered over his shoulder, trying to see what he was doing

"What up, Einstein?" He asked, looking into the mortar. "Ooh, you got anything there?"

Greg sighed. "You think Einstein had people hovering over his shoulders all the time? If he did, do you think that we'd be walking around with e=mc squared t-shirts?"

Nick was quiet for a moment. He leaned in to see what Greg was working on. Greg looked over his shoulder and, upon seeing Nick there began to get a little annoyed. _If I ever ask the CSI's what they're doing they just tell me to go back to the lab and leave them alone._ He thought. _Yet of course, they, the almighty ones can do whatever they want._

"Would you step back?" he asked "Just give me some breathing room? Maybe I'll tell you something about the silver sliver that Grissom found

on sandbox girl's back."

Nick shrugged. "It's all yours."

Greg did his best to look casual as he put the mixture on the card and put the card into one of his machines.

The computer beeped, signalling that his test was complete. "Let's see what the library has to say." Greg said, clicking on the link. "Tempered steel with aluminum coating." he announced.

"Then she was chained up." Nick said.

"If she was, she was wearing something pretty funky." Greg laughed.

Nick looked at him. "She was in the raw."

Greg shook his head. "Yeah, in a matter of speaking. Remember that sparkly stuff that Grissom got off her body?"

Nick nodded. "Yeah."

"I broke it down - tree sap, ammonia and water."

Nick wrinkled his nose. "Sounds like frat house gravy."

Greg smiled "Liquid latex."

Nick, looking confused said "Never heard of it."

Greg grinned, glad that he'd finally found something he knew that Nick didn't. "Really? It's all the craze right now, man. Girls paint it on guys. Guys paint it on girls. You can paint it on yourself if you want if that's what you're into. You can't get a date."

Nick wrote it down. "I got it." he assured.

Greg sensed that he was close to losing the respect Nick had just had for him. "Like I would know." he scoffed.

Nick raised his eyebrows. "Sure, sure. I got it, man."

As he watched the retreating CSI bring his results to their assistant supervisor, Greg wondered if he'd ever had any respect for him at all.

* * *

Catherine Willows' heels clicked on the plastic floor tiles in the clinic. Their victim had silicone breast implants and she had to track down the surgeon. Trying to shake the sense of deja-vu, she looked around for Doctor Sidney Cornfeld. He walked past her in the hallway.

"Dr. Cornfeld?" she called. The man turned around. "Catherine Willows, Las Vegas crime lab. I believe this is one of yours."

She reached into her bag and pulls out a plastic container with the implant in it.

The doctor nodded "Oh, yeah. 414 series. Firm, but plenty of give."

Catherine rolled her eyes."Spare me the sales pitch. We removed that from a homicide victim. I've got a photo."

Dr. Cornfeld examined the implant. "Judging by the size she had a pretty decent pair to start with."

Catherine opened the file she was carrying and took out the photo of their Jane Doe. She passed it to the doctor.

Dr. Cornfeld nodded. "Oh, she was a pretty girl."

"I'm going to need her name." Catherine told him.

He reached into his jacket pocket and checked his Palm Pilot.

"Let's see." he muttered. "Oh, yeah, here we go. Third-party billing, but I do recognize the address. They send me a lot of business. Mona Taylor. She must have worked there. Real shame."

Catherine looked at him "I'll tell you what's a shame - that she was so pretty and perfect and still thought she needed implants."

The doctor frowned at her. "You shouldn't judge Mona for wanting to improve herself. Competition's intense especially for a young woman living in Las Vegas. Why

don't you put yourself in her shoes?"

Catherine laughed. "Trust me - I've been in her shoes. I got out of them."

Oh, yeah, why is that? asked Dr. Cornfeld.

"They were killing me." she said, before turning on her heel and leaving the surgery clinic, before she was sucked in to a world she was all-too-familiar with.

* * *

Nick stared at Catherine as the two of them searched the car park outisde the freaky fetish club their victim had apparently worked at. She was acting really wierd since she'd been in there with Grissom and Brass. For some reason she had her blue blazer completely buttoned up and she had changed into a pair of flat shoes and pulled her hair into a messy ponytail. He woulod ask her about it, but then he'd have to admit he'd noticed what she was wearing in the first place, and Nick didn't wanna go there. They found her car. He shone his flashlight on a car's Nevada License Plate, IAM4FUN, with registration for 12/2001.

"That's her." he said.

" 'I'm for fun'. Right." Catherine seemed uneasy.

"She drove herself to work." Nick said, eager to break the akward silence.

"But she didn't drive home." Catherine added.

Nick walked away and started to look around. He watches her as she checks the car driver's side door.

"It's still locked." she told him

Nick nodded and walked over to a trash can. He opened it and started to pick through it. Catherine peered into the car from the window.

"Looks clean." she said.

Then he found something in the trash can. He picked it up to exmaine it.

"Hey, Catherine ... come check this out." He beckoned her over.

"What's that?" she asked, looking at the silver sparkly thing with the indentation of a watch in it.

Nick snapped on his gloves. "Liquid latex. Grissom found some on the victim. Sanders did a trace analysis. Stuff peels off like a glove."

"Handy." Catherine said, turning around to leave.

Nick pointed at the impression. "Yeah. What do you think that is there? Watch?"

"Bag it. We can get a mold and try and track it down." Catherine said, not even looking at it. She continued walking away towards the SUV's. Nick wasn't sure what he'd said.

Catherine got into one of the black vans and drove back to the lab, hoping Nick wouldn't mind riding back with the officers. She couldn't let him see her flushed face. Couldn't let him realise how familiar all this was to her. Couldn't let him see how she blushed at the metion of their spiky-haired lab tech.

* * *

Alas for Catherine, she had to go with Grissom to get their results from Greg. Normally she was fine around him, se kept their realationship strictly business at all times. But this case was taking her back in time. And back was the last place Catherine wanted to go.

"These are the masks and straws I took out of the sink at Lady Heather's." she told Greg.

"None of which have been washed." he answered.

Grissom joined the conversation. "Mona was a Dominatrix at the fetish club. But my guess is that she was a switch for her off-the-books clients."

Greg chuckled. "You know what a "switch" is?"

"Someone who's dominant as well as submissive." Grissom answered.

Greg grinned, impressed. "Oh, he's even got the lingo down." He imitates cracking a whip. Grissom and Catherine stared down at him, irritated.

Grissom decided to move on. "If Mona's DNA is in one of these masks, then she was the submissive on the night she died."

Greg was still smiling. "You're so dialed into this case, I'll bet you don't need me to tell you which mask had her DNA."

Grissom sighed. "Yes, I do, Greg. I also need to know which straw she used."

Greg turned around, reappearing with a red and a blue sharpie pen up his nose. Grissom sighs and Catherine fought the urge to smile. She couldn't let Greg know he amused her.

"Oh, nice. Mmm. Yeah, that's the idea, Greg. Two straws per mask." she said patronisingly.

Greg took the pens out of his nose. He was still giving them that goofy grin that made Catherine remember things she wished to forget.

"You can't get any air through pens." he told them.

"And not much more through straws." Catherine added.

"And even less if someone's fingers are on the other end." Grissom concluded.

"I found the victim's DNA on this mask" Greg began "and ... these two straws. Red mark: Victim; blue mark :..."

"Our killer." Grissom finished. "Now we just need a suspect."

Then the two of them left, Catherine breathing a sigh of relief. Being around Greg, was getting harder by the minute.

* * *

"I just realized that you and I have a very healthy relationship." she said to her supervisor, almost immediantly regretting it.

_Maybe he hasn't heard me. _She thought to herself.

But unfortunately, he had heard her. "We do?"

Catherine searched her head for a suitable reply. Telling him about her old boss would not be the wisest move. There was no way she wanted her supervisor finding out about her employment history. "Well, when we have a problem, I don't paint Greg Sanders in latex and stick a straw up his nose." she said.

Grissom nodded. "Good. He'd probably like it."

Then he walked into the A.V. room to check their security camera footage, leaving Catherine standing in the corridor, wondering what Greg looked like in silver sparkly paint. The image was irritatingly appealing.


	5. Girls go bad

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own CSI, or anything else you recognise.**

**This chpater is set one month after the third chapter, and three months after the first.**

_Don't, don't you want me?_

_You know I can't believe it_

_When I hear that you won't see me_

* * *

Greg shifted uncomfortably in the red velvet bar stools. Seeing Joey cry was unerving. For the first time, he was glad that Matt and Karl had moved. They didn't need to see this.

"It's like, did se ever really care about me at all?" he wept. "Like these last six months I've given her everything and she jsut trows it all back in my face. She never even told me she was applying for a job, never told me she didn't like living in Vegas or that she hated being a beautician. And tehn she just tells me that she's got a new job and is leaving for Paris in two weeks time. Oh, and did I forget to metion that she's selling her apartment so I have two weeks to move out? The bitch. I thought I loved her, dude. Tought she was the one, you know? But she never loved me. She never even thought -"

"Hey man, you can stay with me for as long as you want. I'll help you find a new place." Greg interjected, sensing that Joey was getting way too serious and not wanting to see his friend depressed. "But for now, I'll buy you anoter drink. Or hey, let's check out the girls? Forget all about Alexa."

"Alexis." Joey told him.

"It doesn't matter what she's called. Come on." Greg said, dragging him up and onto the dancefloor. Joey immediantly wandered over to Lana, his favourite dancer on Friday's. Greg hadn't been to the French Palace on a Friday since Matt's stag night, but Joey didn't want to go anywhere he'd ever been with Alexis. Too many memories.

For the first time since his arrival, Greg looked at the dancers. There she was. Cat. He walked over to were she was dancing and saw a look of reocgnitian flash across er face. She knew who he was.

Bending down, she ran her fingers trough is sandy blonde hair, before whispering "I get off in an hour. Meet me out back." in his ear. Then, Cat straigtened back up and continued dancing. Greg blinked, wondering if he had been imagining it but then she winked at him. Before Greg could wink back, she tossed her red hair over her shoulder and resumed her dance.

Greg watched her for a few more minutes before leaving to find Joey. He was still watching Lana, with a sad look on his face. Greg patted him on the shoulder once, unsure of what to say. Luckily, he didn't have to say anything.

The double doors burst open and a girl in sweatpants and a man's jumper ran in. She looked around several times, before rushing over to where Greg stood with Joey, who hadn't even turned around. Her brown hair billowed out behind her like a sheet. Greg glanced over his shoulder at him. He was looking at Lana, but Greg knew he wasn't even seeing her.

"Joey" the female called. He turned at the sound of her voice. "Come with me. It's only been one night and already I miss you. I was wrong, I can't live without you, but there's enough room in my new apartment for two. Come to Paris with me, we can start over. All I know is that I need you and I love you. So much." At this the brunette burst into tears and Joey took a step forward, his face unreadable.

Then he leaned in and kissed her. The bar erupted into "aaaaaw"s and "that's so cute"s and "just like a movie"s as Joey kissed Alexa like she was the last girl in the world. Greg waved as they walked out together, hand in hand and Joey grinned and mouthed "thank you" Then they were gone and everyone went back to whatever it was they had been doing. Greg bought himself another drink.

He was happy for Joey, of course he was. It was just that now, he was the last one left. Joey would go to Paris, Matt and Karl were in Chicago and Washington. He was still in Las Vegas. Single.

But, he realised, looking at his watch, maybe that could change. He got up and headed out to the back entrance of the club. It was time to meet Cat.

* * *

Her back was turned to him. Greg took a deep breath, wondering if he should be doing this. He was surprised that she'd showed. Before he could gather up the courage to walk over to her, he heard footsteps behind him. Fearful of bouncers telling him he shouldn't be out here, Greg ducked behind a silver car that was parked in the entrance. The man came out the back door and walked over to where Cat stood, waiting for Greg.

"Hey there." he wispered to her. "All alone?"

The man didn't look muscly enough to be a bouncer, but he wore an employees badge. Squinting and still trying to stay hidden, Greg realised he was Grant Eastwood, manager of The French Palace.

"I'm waiting for someone." Cat answered curtly.

"I don't think he's gonna show, babe." The man said, and Greg noticed Cat flincing at the word 'babe'.

"He's coming."

"Woah, babe, you sound like you're hooked on this guy. I can make you forget him if you want" Grant whispered huskily.

"Get off me." Cat inisisted, pushing the advancing man away.

"Hey babe, don't be like that. I told you, this is one of the conditions of this job. You want this job right?"

"Grant, please" Cat pleaded.

Greg wasn't sure what to do. He didn't want to come out of hiding now, Cat would know he'd been listening to her conversation and he didn't want that.

"Come on Cat, you know you love it." Grant insisted, pinning Cat to the wall. Holding her arms down with one hand as she desperately tried to escape, he pulled up her top with the other. She was crying now.

"Hey." Greg yelled. "Let her go."

Grant turned around to face Greg, and Cat pulled down her top again.

"Oh yeah? What you gonna do about it?" Grant asked him.

"She doesn't want you." Greg replied.

"But she wants her job."

"Sexual harassment in the office is a crime."

Greg felt Grant's fist connect with his jaw. Then his stomach. Then he was pushing him against the wall and punching him in the back. Suddenly he stopped. Cat had hit him. But she was no match for Grant. He pushed her onto the ground and stood on her, grinding er face into the pavement. Greg tried to remember the karate classes he'd taken with Karl a year ago. His whole body was aching, but Greg launched himself at Grant and kicked his ankles together, causing him to topple over. Grant grabbed one of Greg's legs, pulling him down too. Adrenaline making him forget all his injuries, Greg rolled on top of Grant and punched him on the nose. Grant groggily threw a punch in Greg's direction but Greg ducked and quickly stood up. Dragging Grant to his feet, he held the dazed man at arms length.

"Leave her alone." he said again. Then he let him go. Grant ran to the car Greg ad been hiding behind and drove away. Toyota Corolla, brand new. Greg wondered how this guy made so much money and he was on minimum wage, making coffee for a researcher, when Greg was a muc better person than Grant. The world wasn't fair. Greg ran over to Cat, who was trying to wipe the blood off her face with the back of her hand.

"Thank you." she whispered.

"No problem." Greg replied, taking a tissue out of his pocket and haning it to her. "He was a total dick."

"I better go apologise." She said, dabbing at her cheek with the tissue.

"No way, he won't tell anyone. He knows that if he does, he's gonna get charged with harassment and probably get his business taken away. He's got more to loose."

"It's not that. He's my ride home."

"I'll take you home." Greg told her. "And you can call your friends tonigt and find someone else to drive you to and from work from now on."

"Are you sure?" she asked him.

"Positive. My car's out front."

"Sorry you had to get caught up in this. I suppose this wasn't what you were expecting." she said, her tone reverting to te one he'd heard her use when she'd whispered in his ear.

"It's ok." Greg inisisted, wiping away some blood she'd left behind on her cheek.

"There's still time" she whispered seductively, coming so close to him tat he could smell her perfume. Oranges, cinammon and some spice he couldnt put a name on wafted through his nostrils. He also smelled tequila. And whiskey and voldka. And someting else that he tried to forget.

"Let's get you home first." he whispered back.

* * *

The door was rotting at the bottom. As soon as he opened it, Greg smelt alcohol. And other things. The paint was peeling off her walls, and there was mould on the ceiling. Then he saw it. Sitting on the table. Marijuana. Cat kicked the door shut.

"Can I get you something to drink?" she asked, taking down a bottle of gin from one of her mismatched wooden cupboards. Only now did Greg realise that she was slurring her words.

"Em... no. No thank you. I'm, I'm alright." She shrugged and poured herself a glass anyway.

"So" she began "I never really thanked you for saving me" Greg noticed, that although she was beautiful, she looked older than she had before. He guessed she was at least 27.

"It's ok." he insisted. "It was nothing."

"I can think of a way to repay you" she whispered, laying a hand on Greg's chest. Her fingernails, painted red, were completely chewed down.

They were interupted by a loud wailing. Greg looked around and saw a toddler, about two or three, lying on one of the tattered armchairs. She looked filthy. There was jam in her hair and all around her mouth and she was bursting out of her white pajamas, which were streaked with brown. Cat sighed and went into te kitchen. The little girl continued to wail as Cat grabbed something out of her cupboard. She filled a bottle with the yellowing water from her tap and added some crushed up pills. She gave the bottle to the little girl, who after a few gulps, fell asleep again. Cat turned back to Greg.

"Lindsey." she told him. "I gave her sleeping tablets."

"Who - " Greg began, but she cut him off.

"Grant." she answered. "Two years ago. He gives me 50 bucks a month to take care of her."

_Two years. _Greg couldn't believe she ad been taking that from her boss for two years. And e only sent 50 bucks a month for his own child? Although, looking from the toddler to the marijuana, he could guess how Cat spent the money.

"But enough about Lindsey." Cat said, walking back over to Greg. "Where were we?"

She pinned him against the wall and kissed him. She tasted like mints. And alcohol. Cat entangled her fingers in his hair. Greg gave in and kissed her back, ignoring the voice in his head screaming at him to stop.

_She's drunk. On drugs. Probably won't even remember you tomorrow._

Cat's hand slipped under his shirt and traced his spine, sending a shiver of electricity through Greg.

_She has a kid. Who is living in this house, which is a health hazard in itself._

She ripped his shirt off over his head and tweaked his nipple with her forefinger.

_She's an exotic dancer. Which is practically the same as a prostitute. _

She began kissing down his neck, and he moaned softly.

_She's probably slept with hundreds of other men. You don't mean anything to her._

She met his lips again and began to lead him into a bedroom.

_She's at least five years older than you. Maybe even ten._

They fell onto the bed and she pulled her top off over her red hair.

_You don't even know her last name._

She unzipped his trousers and lifted up her silver skirt, still kissing him.

_She needs your help Greg. Not this._

He broke away from the kiss and pushed her off of him.

"I can't do this." he whispered.

"But...Greg..." she began.

He cut her off "Listen, you need to get a new job. Or go to rehab. You need help."

Greg stood up, zipping his trousers and looking around for his Marilyn Manson t-shirt.

"I can't quit. I need the money."

"Get a new job. One thing you don't need is me. I can't do anything for you. Listen, I've got to go." Greg told her, heading for the door.

"Wait." Greg turned around. All of a sudden, she didn't look like a twenty nine year old exotic dancer anymore. She looked like a lost little girl. "Stay here. You make me feel safe." Tears were brimming in her eyes. "Please." And so, Greg kicked his shoes off again and walked back over to the bed. Cat curled up in his arms and soon, she was snoring softly. Eventually, Greg closed his eyes and let sleep take him too.


	6. Lost and found

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own CSI**

**This chapter is set during The Finger from season two. A few weeks after chapter 4. Just so you know, It's five years after the first chapter. Greg is twenty seven. And btw, italics is either song lyrics or Greg's thoughts. All the conversations between Catherine and Roy are directly from the episode and so is the conversation between Catherine and Warrick. Enjoy!**

_Don't, don't you want me?_

_You know I don't believe it_

_When you say that you don't need me_

* * *

"Nick? Warrick? Sara? Staff meeting now." Greg heard Grissom say.

He peered out the window and saw him striding past the lab looking around him for his co-workers. On his face was an expression of worry.

_Why didn't he call Catherine?_

Greg dropped the case file he was holding and followed Grissom. He saw Sara and Warrick coming out of the layout room and Nick leaving the trace lab.

_Where was Catherine anyway? _

Then Greg remembered. She'd got off early because her daughter had a school play. Lindsey. That must be why Grissom hadn't called her in for the staff meeting. Greg had been worried for nothing. It wasn't his place to worry about Catherine anyway. She'd made that perfectly clear.

But as Greg headed back to the lab, he couldn't help but overhear Grissom

"...driving away in his car, her vest, gun, bag and phone were lying on the side of the road"

Now Greg was worried.

"Did she look hurt?" Nick sounded worried.

"No, just deep in thought."

"This is the case with the guy who withdrew a million bucks right? With the blood on his hands?" Sara asked.

"Yes. Roy Logan."

"Whose blood was on his hands?" he heard Warrick ask.

"We don't know yet. I sent it to Greg, he should have it in ten minutes."

Greg raced back to the lab. The computer was still compelling his DNA test. He wished it would go quicker. Running back to the hallway, he paused again outside the door.

"...want to help, but I haven't had a night off in weeks and..."

Grissom interupted Sara.

"For now, no crimes have been commited, she may be perfectly fine. Besides I've got Nick and Warrick, we can handle it. Go on."

Greg jumped back at the sound of footsteps, ducking into the balistics lab. Sara opened the door and walked out to the locker room.

"Eavesdropping Sanders?"

Greg jumped at the sound of Bobby's voice. The curly-haired balistics tech was laughing at him.

"No, I was just... ok, maybe a little." Greg admitted, trying to laugh.

"Typical Sanders." Bobby said good naturedly.

Then, from across the hallway, a machine began beeping.

"Hey, I think your results are done." Bobby told him.

"Em..yeah, thats my computer, thanks. Good luck with, em that." Greg said, idnicating the bullet Bobby was trying to extract from a tree branch.

"Thanks." Bobby smiled, but Greg had already run out the door to check who the blood belonged to.

* * *

Gil Grissom was wandering down the corridors when he passed the DNA lab. Greg motioned for him to come in.

"What'd you find?" he asked the lab tech.

"The blood's female." Greg told him "Definitely not Logan's."

"Thanks." Grissom said, taking the results sheet from the printer and leaving to find the others.

He was worried. But he was sure Catherine could protect herself. For the five years he'd known her, she'd always been strong. Grissom was certain Catherine could handle any situation. But the guy with the spiky hair pacing back and forth in the DNA lab wasn't so sure.

* * *

Catherine couldn't believe what she'd gotten herself into. She was sitting at a diner with a man she'd known for half an hour, ignoring one of her co-workers and trying to subtely put a finger into a glass of ice. The phone rang again. She picked it up.

"Hello."

"Take Boulder Highway South till it intersects ninety-three. Take the Yucca Exit, East, one mile. You'll see a sign: Horseshoe Tavern. You have one hour." the squeaky voice told her. Catherine assumed the kidnapper was using helium.

She hung up and put the phone back on the counter, next to the glass of ice.

"What'd he say?" Roy asked her.

Putting some money on the counter and picking up the phone and the glass, Catherine looked around the room again.

"Let's go." she said to Roy.

He picked up his metal briefcase with the ransom money and moved towards the door. Catherine followed him, casually putting the glass in front of Sara. Then she left the diner before Sara had time to turn around and look at her.

Catherine wondered if the others had realised that she had disapeared. She briefly wondered how Greg was taking the news.

* * *

_I could get fired for this._ Greg reminded himself.

He froze when he heard footsteps outside his supervisors office. Whoever it was simply walked past, didn't come in. Greg continued searching the files. Finally he found it. Roy Logan. Slipping the folder inside his shirt, Greg went back to the DNA lab. He needed all the information. That was the only way he could help Catherine.

_Ok, _he said, skimming the information _a guy withdraws a million bucks then the cops pull him over for dangerous driving. His phone rings, he doesn't answer it. The officer notices blood on his hands, so she sends him down to the station. Grissom and Catherine take a sample of the blood which gets send to Greg Sanders - _Greg felt a small thrill at seeing his name on the file but he quickly dismissed it, and carried on reading._ His lawyer arrives_ _and Roy leaves with him. Catherine goes out to return his sunglasses. Grissom comes out and sees Catherine in the car with Roy. Her CSI vest, her gun, he handbag and her mobile phone were left on the side of the road. Then, she comes into a diner with Roy. She ignores Sara but puts a glass with a finger in it on the table._

"A severed finger, a million bucks. And Catherine's not allowed to talk to anyone." Greg heard Grissom say, as he passed the lab.

"Kidnapping?" Nick replied.

"So, who's worth one mil?" Warrick asked.

Greg decided to run a comparison test with the blood on his hands and the blood from the finger. Sure, there was a stack of other cases waiting for him, including Ecklie's triple homicide, but Catherine came first. She was worth it.

* * *

Roy looked around the abandoned gas station, worried. "I don't see a phone. Where's the phone?"

Ray noticed an old phone booth and ran to it. "Dammit. They set us up. She's dead. I knew it!" he insisted.

"He had a shot gun. If all he wanted was the money, we'd both be dead." Catherine tried to reassure him.

Roy stepped out of the telephone booth. Catherine stepped inside and looked around. She noticed something stuck in the yellow pages. A map. A map of the location where Roys girlfriend, Amanda is. From the I-93 through the Texas Acres, through the Easelwood Hwy, toward the Easelwood Reservoir.

"Give me the phone." Catherine said.

"No, no, no- no, no! He said no phone calls. They may be watch ..." Roy began.

"We're past that. Give me the phone!" Catherine insisted.

Bu't Roy wouldn't hand it over. Listen, please. What if it was someone you loved? What if it was your daughter?"

Catherine was about to insist again but then a thought ran through her head. _What if it was Greg._

Five miles later, staring at the dead body of Amanda Freeman and hearing Roy weep softly, Catherine thought of Greg again. She thanked god it wasn't him.

* * *

Warrick came into the lab, but he didn't have evidence for Greg. He had a seven year old girl.

"Teacher called the lab when Cath didn't come to the recital or to pick her up. Said she wasn't answering her cell. We all got cases so... can she stay with you until shift is over?"

Greg smiled at Lindsey. Her big blue eyes were worried, and her face was painted with a yellow moon. That must have something to do with the play Catherine was supposed to be watching.

"Sure" Greg answered, pulling up a chair for her.

"Thanks man." Warrick said, as he turned and left.

Greg wished he could do more to help find Catherine. But for now, taking care of Lindsey was a start. He reached into his desk drawer and and toom out a handful of lollipops.

"Red, green or orange?" he asked her.

Lindsey reached out for the red lollipop.

"You remember me?" he asked. "Greg Sanders?"

Lindsey was silent.

"Hey, wanna help me do some DNA tests?" he asked.

Lindsey still didn't say anything but she nodded.

"Ok then, this, is a really cool machine. You put stuff in here, press a few buttons and VOILA! it tells you all this cool stuff about it. Look" Greg gestured to the cotton swab he placed in the slot. "Ok, press the red button, way to go." Lindsey grinned as the machine began buzzing, signalling the start of the testing.

"And," he whispered, looking back and forth dramatically "since my boss isn't here, we can put on some music." Greg turned on the radio and searched in the cupboard for a C.D. she would like. Marilyn Manson, Radiohead, Pink Floyd, Rage Against the Machine, Top Twenty Country Tunes _ how did that get there?_ he wondered. _Nick. _The Texan had a thing for country music and was always trying to convince Greg to listen to it. Greg found a Disney C.D. next to a Winnie the Pooh audiobook and an Operatic Classic disk. Greg was suddenly glad he kept the C.D.s that came free in the newspapers.

Popping the Disney C.D. into the music player and turning the volume up, Greg looked at Lindsey, still sucking her lollipop. She may not be saying anything but Greg had a feeling she remembered him.

_Hakuna Matata! What a wonderful phrase_

_Hakuna Matata! Ain't no passing craze_

_It means no worries for the rest of your days_

_It's our problem-free philosophy_

_Hakuna Matata!_

Greg swirled around in his deskchair, and began to sing along. Lindsey giggled. It was the first sound she'd made since realising that her mother was missing.

_Hakuna Matata! What a wonderful phrase_

_Hakuna Matata! Ain't no passing craze_

Greg put a pair of safety goggles on her, and found a matching pair for himself. He started drumming on the table.

"You're funny." she told him.

_It means no worries for the rest of your days_

_It's our problem-free philosophy_

_Hakuna Matata!_

_Hakuna Matata! Hakuna matata!_

_Hakuna Matata! Hakuna matata!_

_Hakuna Matata! Hakuna matata!_

_Hakuna Matata! Hakuna matata!_

By now Lindsey was off her seat, jumping up and down to the music. Grissom walked past and raised his eyebrows, but when he saw Lindsey dancing with Greg he smiled and carried on.

_It means no worries for the rest of your days_

_It's our problem-free philosophy_

_Hakuna Matata!_

They threw their arms back and belted out the last line of the song, opera singer style.

_Hakuna Matataaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!_

Lindsey giggled again as the next song came on. Greg dimmed the volume slightly.

"Do you wanna know how to swap a wine glass for saliva?" he asked her, taking out Ecklie's evidence.

"What's saliva?" she asked him.

"Spit" Greg grinned.

"Eeeeewwwww" she said, laughing "You have to touch spit!"

"That's why I wear these gloves." he said, wiggling his latex-gloved fingers at her.

"Can I have gloves?" she asked him.

"Sure" he answered. "They might be a bit big for you though" he said, handing her a new pair of gloves from the box on his desk.

Lindsey put on the gloves. "So" she began "why do you want spit from a glass?"

* * *

Catherine was glad to be able to talk to her team again. She found that she didn't really care about the case, she was just happy to be back.

"She ate, but she didn't fall asleep till way late. We had her helping Greggo out in the lab." Warrick was telling her.

"I bet she loved that." Catherine said, and she was serious. She couldn't think of anybody better to look after her daughter.

"Yeah." Warrick answered, leading her to the break room. Lindsey was asleep on the couch, sucking her thumb. She was wearing latex gloves. Somebody had tucked her up with a lab coat.

"I owe you. Thank you." she told him.

Warrick left and she stroked Lindsey's forehead. She didn't wake up. Catherine thought about Greg. She wondered what she was going to say to him. Catherine realised that she really wanted to see him, to talk to him, to hug him. But Catherine knew where that would lead. And she had promise herself when he had started working here that she would never go there. Never.

The problem was, it was becoming hard to talk to Greg about anything non-case related than it had ever been before. The only way she could avoid what was starting to look inevitable was to distance herself from him. Be strictly business like. So that's what she would do.

* * *

The hardest thing Greg had had to do in a long time was go home. He had wrapped one of his old labcoats around Lindsey and laid her on the couch. All Catherines evidence had been run and there was nothing more to do. Plus, the dayshift DNA tech wanted his lab back. Grissom had sent Greg home, telling him to come back when he was well rested. He was going to ask him to call when they found her but that might look suspicous. So he just went home.

Now, he was rushing back in. He couldn't believe he'd slept for nearly twelve hours. He was two hours late for his next shift. Locking his car and racing to the parking lot elevatpr, Greg checked his watch for the hundredth time.

_Please let Catherine be ok. _

He ran into the lab, signing in quickly. He saw Nick, reading a file and drinking a cup of coffee.

"Nick? Any news?"

"Em... Ecklie fired the dayshift coroners assistant for moving the body before his team had taken pictures of the position. Warrick broke a mug this morning. One of Grissom's pet cockroaches died?"

"No, I mean, with Catherine! Do we know anything else?"

"Where have you been man?" She came back. The dude told her his girlfriend was kidnapped, led her on a wild goose chase around Vegas and it turns out, he killed the girlfriend himself and staged the kidnapping. Cath was mad at herself for believing him. She's just gone home now. Griss gave her the day off."

"Thank God she's ok" Greg said. "She wasn't hurt was she?"

"No man, not a scratch." Nick assured him

"Will she be back tomorrow?" Nick asked.

"Yeah, and by the way, Ecklie's looking for you. Something about a wine glass."

"Thanks Nick."

Greg continued down the hall. He'd have to wait until tomorrow to talk to Catherine. He would call her, but this was something that needed to be done in person.


	7. The morning after

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own CSI**

**This chapter takes place the morning after chapter five, so when Greg is twenty two. Enjoy!**

_It's much too late to find_

_You think you've changed your mind_

_You better change it back or we will both be sorry._

* * *

Greg woke up and looked around him, confused for a minute as he tried to remember where he was. Cat was still wrapped around him and he could hear someone crying from the living room. Untangling himself from Cat, he went into the kitchen. Greg poured himself a glass of water and then went to find Lindsey. She had fallen off the couch.

"Hey, hey, it's alright Lindsey."

She was probably hungry. Greg carried her into the kitchen and searched the cupboards. He eventually found some microwavable oatmeal and deicided that was the best thing he could find. While it was rotating in the old microwave that was missing most of it's buttons, Greg decided to find some new clothes for her.

* * *

An hour later, Lindsey had been fed and washed. She wore a pair of purple dungarees that Greg had found on the drying rack and her face was clean. Greg had pulled her blonde hair into pigtails and she was sucking on a red lollipop Greg had found in his pocket.

Lindsey was the easy part. As she sat in front of the televison, watching cartoons, Greg was wondering what to do about Cat. He took a shower and put on the clothes he'd been wearing yesterday. Catherine didn't have any hair gel so Greg's hair had to go unspiked. He made himself some coffee and sat in her kitchen, waiting for the redhead to wake up.

At twelve o' clock, she strolled out of the bedroom. She was wearing skinny jeans and a blue string top. Cat had re-applied her make-up and Greg remembered why he'd wanted her so badly the night before.

"Hey there." she smiled.

"Cat, good morning." Greg replied "How are you feeling?"

"Hungover." she replied, sighing.

Greg patted the seat next to him and she sat down, running her fingers through her red hair.

"I'm so screwed." she whispered, resting her head on Greg's shoulder.

"Hey, it's alright" Greg said in what he hoped was a reassuring tone. "Come on, tell me about yourself."

And so she began her life story. Greg sipped his lukewarm coffee and listened. Right now, that was the best he could do.

She was twenty seven, and her last name was Flynn. She was born in Las Vegas but moved around a lot. Her mother, Lily Flynn was a showgirl and a waitress in a cocktail bar. Cat dropped out of school when she was fifteen and ran away from home, after a fight with her mother. She'd always vowed to do something better with her life then her mother had done, but she arrived back in Vegas with no money and no friends, she realised how difficult that was going to be. Grant had seen her in the streets and offered her a job, which she had taken. He bought this apartment for her and paid her minimum wage. She got to keep all her tips and that was how she paid for food and other necessities.

She cried when she told him of Grant and the things she had to do to keep her job. He owned everything she considered hers though, and if she tried to report him, he threatened to take away her apartment, her job and her daughter.

"What about the marijuana?" Greg asked "why are you on drugs?"

"Don't judge me!" she yelled, getting up out of her chair.

"Hey" he said, trying to calm her down. "I'm not judging you, I want to help you."

"What if I don't want your help" Cat retorted, but the anger was gone. She sat down again and took Greg's hand.

"I was so down, and some of the other girls told me to take this stuff. It isn't life threatening, I did my research but it keeps me sane. It keeps me happy."

"You deserve to be happy." Gregt told her, massaging the back of her hand. "But not like that."

Cat kissed him again, and this time Greg kissed her back. He knew she was only doing this because she was lonely, but then again, so was he. What was wrong with two lonely people trying to make each other feel a little less lonely? This time, he didn't object as Cat led him to the bedroom, didn't try to stop her as she removed his clothes. And afterwards, Greg felt just as empty as he had before, but he decided that he needed to do something about it. He was going to help Cat. Get her a new place, a new job. Because now that all his friends had left him in this big city all alone, what else was there to live for.

* * *

Greg gathered all the bottles of alcohol and threw them out the window. He heard the glass smash as it hit the ground 50 metres below, and he hoped he wouldn't wake Cat. The sound reminded Greg of being at the bottle bank when he was a little kid.

_"Good boy Greg. You put the green ones in here, the brown ones in here and the clear ones in here remember?"_

_"Where do the bottles go after we put them in here Papa?"_

_"I don't know son, they probably make them into new bottles."_

_"But they're all broken, I hear them smashing. Nobody wants to drink out of a broken bottle Papa."_

_" Well, they fix them so they're not broken. They put them together again. Great job, just the brown bottles left now."_

"_The brown bin is so high up."_

_"Stand on your tippy-toes Greg, good boy."_

_Then they were interupted by a female voice._

_"Gregory Hojem Sanderso, what do you think you're doing?"_

_"Papa Olaf said..."_

_"I told you not to bring Gregory here. Glass is dangerous!"_

_"Look, he's fine, see. He's not two years old anymore, you can't wrap him in bubble wrap forever."_

_"Don't tell me how to raise my son. Gregory is only seven, he doesn't know any better than to follow you and you are leading him astray! Do I smell chips? You gave him chips? What have I told you about giving Gregory fatty food?"_

_"Momma, it's okay, look, I can do it."_

_Greg stood on his tippy-toes and reached up to put the last bottle in the bin. _

_"Gregory!"_

_He jumped at the sound of his name and dropped the bottle he'd been holding over his head. He felt something sharp on his face and he heard the sound of a bottle smashing._

_"Now look what you've done to my son! It's ok baby, it's ok. Quick call an ambulance!"_

_Greg opened his mouth to preotest, say he was a big boy, he didn't need an ambulance. But then the world was going fuzzy and he could hear his mother fighting with his grandfather. His head was throbbing, and he could taste blood in his mouth. So Greg did what was easiest. He closed his eyes._

* * *

Greg was jolted back to reality by the sound of his phone beeping. He had a message from Joey.

Hey dude, movin 2 Paris next week with Alexis. U able 2 come help me pack? Joey.

Greg hastily scribbled a note for Cat, promising to visit her again soon and leaving his number in case of emergencies. He told her not to go back to work and left two fifty dollar bills. He hoped she wouldn't spend it on more alcohol. As he was getting into his car, he remembered the marijuana. He'd deal with that next time. And Greg was sure there was going to be a next time. _For Cat''s sake. _He told himself, but he knew it was much more than that.


	8. Trying to find the words

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own CSI**

**This is set right after chapter 6, so after The Finger.**

_Don't you want me, baby?_

_Don't you want me, ohh?_

* * *

She was coming. This was his big chance.

_Speak now or forever hold your peace _he told himself. She was getting closer, he could hear her shoes. Then she was walking past the window.

"Hey, Catherine" he yelled, causing her to turn around sharply "Can you come here for a minute?"

* * *

He was in there. She could hear music playing and he never left it on when he went out. She looked around for another route, but since her destination, the trace lab, was right across from the DNA lab, she really had no other choice. Maybe he wouldn't see her. She took a deep breath and continued walking, she was just passing the window when she heard her name being called.

Shit. She turned around to look at the lab tech who was beckoning her in. Why did she turn around? She should have just carried on walking and pretended she hadn't heard him. But now she was looking right at him, and she couldn't stay standing there forever. So she breathed in again. And then walked into the DNA lab.

* * *

Now that she was there, he didn't know what to say. She didn't even smile, just stared at him, her expression blank. Greg tried to arrange the words in his head, but they were jumping around so fast that he couldn't pin them down.

"What is it, Sanders?" her tone was cool.

_Sanders? She was calling him by his last name now?_

"I...um... I just wanted to say, that I was...glad you were safe. From you know... the whole thing with Roy and stuff. I was worried about you."

"Is that is?" she replied, her eyes stone cold.

"Well, I was wondering if you wanted to go for lunch later, when you take your break. You know, catch up or something."

"Can't. Got a murder suicide in Henderson."

"Well, maybe tomorrow then?"

"Grissom's day off, so I'm acting supervisor."

"Next week sometime? Cat.."

"Catherine." she corrected icily.

"Catherine then, I just want to talk to you."

* * *

He was so hard to say no to. He looked up at her, his chocolate brown eyes big and bright, like a puppy dog. But Catherine couldn't get involved. Lunch would lead to dinner, which would lead to drinks, which would lead to dancing and after that, who knows.

"I'm really not sure that's the best idea." she told him, hoping he couldn't hear her voice breaking.

"I just miss you..." he began, taking a step forward and resting his hand on her shoulder.

She was burning with desire now, he was close enough for her to breathe in his scent, he smelled like apples. Fighting her temptations, she retsrained herself, not even trusting herself to openn her mouth, to shrug his hand away, for any small movement and she'd loose control, loose herself. What was it with Greg Sanders that turned her insides to jelly and her brain to mush?

"I loved you, Cat." he whispered.

Then she lost it. Her arm seemed to move itself and she slapped Greg Sanders across his perfect, puppy dog face.

* * *

His cheek was burning like somebody had thrown acid on it. He couldn't stop the strangled cry that rose from his throat as he backed away from Catherine. He swallowed twice, trying to stop the tears that were clouding his vision. Staring at the redheaded woman, standing in his lab with her hand still raised, he ran. Into the bathroom and locked himself in.

He wasn't sure how long he stayed there for. His phone and his pager beeped four or five times each and his stomach was rumbling but Greg knew that those things weren't reaal. They were part of a movie, a happy, light, fluffy movie that you love to curl up and watch on a rainy Saturday night. Greg was watching this movie, banging on the screen and trying to get in. He had to get in, had to escape the horror movie that was his real life but he couldn't remember how. Couldn't move. That night, Greg stayed sitting in the corner of the bathroom floor, hugging his knees for three hours. Whe he finally did get up, he wasn't Greg any more. He was a tortured man living inside a plastic body. He was a broken man wearing the mask of a funny, happy-go-lucky DNA tech. Then again, Greg realised, was that really such a change?

* * *

His eyes were shocked, scared, hurt. She never wanted to hurt him Somewhere inside of Catherine, she knew it wasn't the slap, but the fact that she'd slapped him that hurt him the most. Why did he do this to her? He wasn't even aware of what he did, didn't even realise how she tossed an turned at night, looking for a solution, an answer. She never found one.

_I should apologise to Greg_, she told herself. _Maybe buy him some chocolate or something. Then set him straight, tell him nicely to leave me alone. Yeah, that would work. _Catherine thought, as she headed down the corridor to find Grissom. Inside her head, a voice was laughing at her, telling her that she knew she would do nothing of the sort. It was right.


	9. He's watching me

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own CSI**

**This chapter takes place a few days after chapter eight. Hope you're all enjoying this so far. I just realised my mistake, they probably didn't have mobile phones like we do now 15 years ago, but just ignore it.**

_I was working as a waitress in a cocktail bar_

_That much is true_

* * *

It was two a.m. when his phone rang. Cursing humanity, he got up and began patting down the bed, trying to find the source of the ringing. Finally locating it, he snapped it open, meaning to give whoever was callling him so early a piece of his mind.

"Greggie" she breathed into the phone.

"Cat?"

"I know it's early but I need... I need to talk to someone."

"You alright?" Greg was already pulling a t-shirt over his head and trying to locate a clean pair of jeans in the pile of clothes he called his closet.

"Somebody is watching me" she whispered.

"Where? Who is he?" Greg asked urgently.

"I don't know." she replied "but I can feel a presence and it's driving me crazy."

Then there was a scream and the line got cut off.

Greg looked outside. It was pouring rain and so cloudy Greg couldn't see more than ten feet ahead, the sky was pitch black but lit up every few seconds when the lightnigh flashed. Greg could hear rolls of thunder. Throwing a coat on over his t-shirt, Greg ran to his car.

* * *

He arrived at Cat's apartment fifteen minutes later. Greg rang the bell but it was broken. He was about to knock when he realised that Cat never locked her door anyway. Walking in and looking around, Greg didn't see anything out of the ordinary. Lindsey still lay asleep on the couch, despite the thunder and lightning outside the window. Grabbing Cat's one and only kitchen knife, Greg tiptoed over to her bedroom, pressing himself up against the wall. Counting to three, he pushed open the door and jumped into the room. It was empty.

"Cat?" he called "CAT?"

"Greggie?"

"Cat, where are you?"

"I'm...in...in the closet. Is he... is he gone?"

"Cat!" Greg flung open the closet door. There, between two cocktail dresses was Cat, hugging her knees her face streaked with tears. He pulled her up off the ground and into his arms, she was shaking.

"What happened? Was it Grant? Are you hurt?" Greg had a thousand questions but Cat just sobbed silently into his chest.

"I don't know. I...I heard noises and I hid. Did he hurt Lindsey?"

"Cat, what did you hear? Why did you scream? Did he hit you?"

"I heard... rumbling...like he was rolling a huge boulder around outside my door. And I screamed, because I knew he was coming for me, he was going to kill me Then you hung up and I knew he'd...he'd killed you too. He... he was going to kill everyone. It was my fault... I.."

"Cat." Greg said, rocking her back and forth "There's nobody here. Nobody killed me and nobody is going to kill you. You just heard the thunder. I didn't hang up, it was the storm, we must have gotten cut off. It's alright."

"He..."

"Cat." he said, holding her at arms length and holding her chin up with one hand, forcing her to look at him "There is no He. Just you, me and Lindsey."

He drew her back into his arms and she continued to weep, her tears staining his t-shirt. When she finally stopped crying, Greg sat down on the bed, pulling Cat down with him. She sat on his lap and murmured softly as he dried away her tears with the back of his hand, singing softly to her. He planted gentle kisses all along her hairline and whispered that everything was going to be alright. Eventually she believed him and drifted into a dreamless sleep, snoring softly. Greg looked down at the beautiful woman asleep in his lap and realised how looks can be decieving. When he first saw Cat, she seemed fiery, independent. She was in control, she way the one who could make his heart thump by just looking at him. Lookiang at Cat now, he knew she wasn't always in control, wasn't always fiery and independent. She was a person, and a pretty messed up one at that. It didn't put Greg off her though, he liked a challenge.

* * *

When Greg woke up the next morning, Cat was already up. Walking into the kitchen, he saw her leaning over the stove that Greg hadn't even realised she had.

"Morning" she smiled. She was wearing a pair of boxer pajama shorts and a blue vest top. Her red hair was scooped back in a messy ponytail and even though she wasn't wearing any make up, and she'd removed her nine inch heels in favour of bare feet with pink painted toenails, Greg had never seen her look more beautiful.

"You want pancakes?" she asked him.

Greg was worried. He and Cat needed to talk, she needed to fix things and pancakes wasn't going to help that. Couldn't hurt though.

"Sure."

Cat continued slopping dollops of the batter into the frying pan and producing things that actually resembled pancakes. Greg was a little shocked, he'd never imagined she could cook. She put a plate down in front of him and tossed a pancake onto it.

"There's jam, honey, ice-cream, what else do you have on pancakes?"

"Maple syrup." Greg offered "lemon and sugar, caramel sauce, chocolate spread."

"I have chocolate?" she said, taking a bar our from her cupboard. "We could melt it?"

"Good idea. I love chocolate on pancakes."

"This microwave is so old." she sighed, punching the machine to get it to work. "It was here when I got the place."

"It was probably here when the place was built" Greg laughed as she put the bowl of chocolate in the aincent microwave.

"It was probably here when the first humans were born." she added, laughing.

The old machine beeped, and Cat spread the thick, melted chocolate onto their pancakes.

"You know what else I have?" she asked him "whipped cream!" Greg found the bottle in the fridge and squirted some onto their pancakes. Then he aimed the bottle at Cat and squirted, covering her in white foam.

"You are so gonna pay for that!" she screamed, getting up and chasing him round the kitchen. She giggled as she gained ground on him but every time she caught up, he turned around and sprayed more cream at her until she backed him into a corner, claimed the cream bottle and squirted him until he begged for mercy.

"I surrender! I give up Cat, you win. Stop squirting me!"

"Admit that I am the superior cream squirter?"

"NEVER!"

She shrugged and sprayed again, so he ended up with a whipped cream beard.

"Alright, you Cat are the almighty, superior cream squirter. Now cut it out!"

She smiled smugly and dropped the bottle. They made way back to the table, wiping the white foam off themselves as best as they could, to eat lukewarm pancakes with melted cream and chocolate.

While they were eating, they talked about anything and everything, music, movies, books, everything but what really needed to be said. Greg didn't want to upset the humour, the easy, light, happy atmosphere but he knew it had to be done.

"Cat?" he asked, and she looked up at him, sensing the seriousness of whatever he was about to ask her.

"Yes?"

Greg opened his mouth to speak but there was a lump in his throat and it may as well have been mount Everest for try as he might, he couldn't make a single sound. So instead he picked up the whipped cream bottle and squirted a tiny dollop on the tip of her nose.

"That." he smiled, and she grinned back, stretching her pink pinted tongue and attempting to lick it off. Greg laughed and tried to be content with the happiness, with burying his head in the sand, even though he knew that just because he couldn't see the danger didn't mean it wasn't there.


	10. Phone calls

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own CSI**

**This chapter takes place during Chasing The Bus in season two. Most of the dialogue is taken from the actual episode.**

_Don't you want me, baby?_

_Don't you want me, ohh?_

* * *

He'd screwed up. Big time. There was no way Grissom was going to put him in the field now.

"_Hey. Got here as soon as I could."_

_"Whoa, what are you doing here, Greg?"_

_"All hands on deck. That was the call, right? Crims on the scene."_

_"Crims with field training."_

_"Come on. I'm capable."_

_"He does no collection."_

_"You're taking my notes. You didn't bring a warmer jacket?"_

_"No."_

He hadn't even brought the right jacket. It was freezing and his teeth were chattering, but he was so high on adrenaline he ignored it. He was just happy to be out of the lab. He'd been having a hard time working in the lab, with all the memories haunting him like ghosts.

_"Mr. Draper, have you had anything to drink tonight? I'm going to do a preliminary field breath test. Keep an eye on Mr. Draper, will you, for me? Mr. Draper, you sit tight._

_"I, uh, I got to go."_

_"Won't take a minute. I understand. I understand. Hang tight."_

_"See, uh, there's people ..."_

_"I understand. I want you to take a deep breath, and I want you to blow into the end of this for me, okay?"_

_Nick held out the breathalizer and put it towards the bus drivers mouth._

_The he started coughing up blood._

The blood was scarlet, it reminded Greg of being at the bottle bank, when he'd touched his forehead and his hand had been covered in his own blood. Scarlet. He couldn't tell Nick that of course. That he was afraid of blood because he'd dropped a beer bottle on his head when he was seven. But he froze up when he saw it, memories holding him down, paralysing him.

* * *

_"Gregory, it's okay. You're going to be alright" she'd said._

_Then she's gotten up and ran out across the street, calling for help. She hadn't seen the bus._

* * *

Greg did not do well with bus accidents, but he'd been so bent on escaping the lab that he'd jumped at the opportunity. All hands on deck, Grissom had said.

_I need a doctor over here. Greg, get some help._

But he was frozen to the spot, staring at the man draped over Nick. Staring at the blood coming out of his mouth.

_"Greg! Greg! Get some help!"_

His Papa Olaf had held his mother as she died. There was blood all over her chest. Greg wasn't able to help then either.

But now Nick was walking over to him, smiling as much as was possible at the scene of a bus crash. Greg had to lock little Gregory away in his head again and be Greg. Greg Sanders.

* * *

"I'm sorry." he said.

"It's all right, man. Stop apologizing." Nick replied.

"Oh, I feel bad. I just froze up."

"That's why we have fielding training, Greg. No disrespect, but you're not qualified to be out here."

"I guess I just wasn't expecting blood to look like that. Pre-collection, so different." Greg lied.

"Yup. I remember my first time in the field. CSI One. Green as could be. Initial call was a robbery. I get there, triple homicide. Blood all over the place, mother and two kids." Nick told him.

"How do you deal?" Greg asked him.

"You just do." Nick replied, shrugging.

Grissom was standing hear the front of the overturned bus. He's looking at the passenger list on a clipboard when they joined him.

"Okay, what's next?" Nick asked their supervisor.

"Well, we're missing a passenger. The only one unaccounted for is an ex-con named Calvin McBride. According to Brass, he wasn't admitted to the hospital and he's not in any of the body bags."

"What about the rest stop in Barstow?" Nick asked.

"CHP and the Barstow P.D. are looking."

Nick nodded.

"Anybody check the bus?" Greg asked.

"I'll find out." Nick said, taking off his jacket and walking inside the bus.

"Firefighters only look in the obvious spots." Grissom told Greg.

"Just out of curiosity, what are the unobvious spots?" Greg asked him.

"For bodies?"

"Yeah."

"Walls, hot water heaters stuffed in the box spring of a hotel room bed. I found a head in a bucket of paint once."

"I get the picture." Greg nodded.

"What do you see?" Grissom called to Nick.

"Well ... McBride's not on the bus." he yelled back. "Hey, Grissom. Cheap whiskey. Broken bottle. Brown paper bag. You know, I never gave the bus driver a breath test." He came out of the bus, holding the brown paper bag out to Grissom.

"Greg, bag this, take it to the lab, swab the rim for DNA." Greg said, handing the bag to him. "You should be wearing gloves."

"Sorry." Greg answered, heading back to his car. On the drive back to the lab, he numbed his brain by turning up the radio as high as it would go. It was too loud to think, and that was the way Greg liked it.

* * *

Back at the lab, Greg ran the DNA. Not even bothering to look at the results, he twirled idily in his desk chair for an hour. The he got out his cellphone. There were a few people he needed to speak to.

"Bonjour?"

"Joey?"

"Pardon? Qui-est ici?"

"Joey? It's Greg here. Greg Sanders?"

"Greg! Hey, dude it's great to hear from you! What you at?"

"Em, still living in Vegas, got a job at the crime lab, DNA technician."

"Way to go dude, living the dream eh, but helping the cops?"

"Sorry man. What about you? How's Paris? You still with Alexis?"

"Engaged." Joey answered "And yeah, we live in a flat on the outskirts of town, I got a job as a bomb difuser."

"Woah, that's cool." Joey had always been the dumb one in the group, nobody had ever thought he'd amount to anything. Now he was a bomb difuser.

"Yeah it's grea - what? No honey, I'm just talking to Greg. You remember Greg right? Yeah. Okay, I'm coming. - Listen Greg, it's been great talking to you, but I need to go now, I'm going out to dinner with Alexis. This new five-star restaraunt that she's been dying to check out for weeks. I gotta go."

"It's cool, good talking to you."

"Bye Greg."

"Bye." But Joey had already hung up. Greg dialed another number.

"Walters."

"Karl? It's Greg. Sanders. Rememer me?"

"Greg Sanders, of course I do. How's life been treating you buudy?"

"Good. I work with LVPD now. DNA analyisist. You?"

"I got my doctrate. I teach chemistry at Stanford now."

"Hey, that's great. You still dating, what was her name, Penelope?"

"No buddy, that was ages ago. I'm dating Mandy now."

"How long?"

"Three years. She lives with me. So do her two kids from her first marriage. Alex, he's eight and Jemma, she's six next week."

"Tell her I say happy birthday."

"I will. What about you? You seeing anyone?"

"Not at the moment, no" Greg said, thinking of Catherine.

"Hey, single and ready to migle right?" Karl joked and Greg attempted a laugh.

"Listen, I got a class in five minutes and I'm running late, so talk to you later?"

"Sure. And did you hear Joey's engaged?"

"Yeah. Has been for about a year now. Wedding's in August I think."

"Oh right, cool."

"Bye buddy."

"Bye Karl." the line went dead.

It took Greg three attempts to reach Matt. After getting to voicemail twice, Greg decided just to leave a message the next time. But Matt picked up the phone.

"Hello, Matthew and Maria."

"Matt?"

"Greg?"

"Yeah, it's me. You go by Matthew now?"

"Yeah. Haven't heard from you in ages bro. Where do you live now?"

"Still living in Vegas, different apartment though. I'm number 261 now instead of 903. South facing windows."

"Cool, so you get the whole city view?"

"Well, kind of. There's sort of a billboard in the way."

Matt laughed. "The only view I get is clouds."

"Still living in Chicago?"

"Yeah, got a little house outside of town. We love it."

"Who exactly is we again?"

"Me, Maria, did I tell you about the girls?"

"Girls?"

"Lucy, Lily and Lola. Triplets. I think I sent you a picture."

"New email adress, probably never got it. How old?"

"Four moths now."

"Wow. Congratulations man, that's awesome."

"Thanks. You still doing DNA research?"

"Kind of. I work at the Vegas Crime lab now. You?"

"Chemical engineering."

"Great. Did you hear about Joey?"

"Engaged? Yeah. I can't believe he's defusing bombs now. We never thought he'd pass his finals did we?"

"No" Greg said, laughing honestly for the first time that night. "We all guessed he was doomed to work in Mcdonalds forever."

"I know right? And isn't it funny that the first girl he stays with for more than two weeks turns out to be The One?"

"Yeah, I never thought he'd settle down at all. And he speaks fluent french now?"

"Hell no" Matt laughed. "He just learns three phrases which he uses when answering the phone, buying beer and ordering pizza. Say anything else to him and he's running off to find his dictionary."

"Typical Joey. And what about Karl, a professor now?"

"Yeah, he was telling me. Worked his ass of getting his doctrate but he made it. And he loves those two kids like their his own."

"Yeah, I never even knew he'd broken up with Penelope!"

"Penny."

"No way, it's definately Penelope", Greg insisted.

"Whatever you say man, you never were good with names."

"Oh yeah? State your source?"

"Well, you called Mr. Noonan, our professor, Papa one too many times!"

Greg's laughter was real. "That was different. Besides, I never called one of the French Palace dancers mom!"

"Don't go there bro" Matt was laughing too. "Besides, YOU were the one who..." they were interupted by loud, desperate wails. Then the volume doubled, then tripled.

"Oh shit." Matt cursed. "All three of them are awake at once. Sorry but I have to go Greg, it was great talking to you."

"You too man, we gotta keep in touch."

"You're right. I guess I'll see you at the wedding?"

"Sure." The the wails got louder and Matt apologised again before saying goodbye and hanging up.

Greg stayed, there, the phone still up against his ear, listening to the dialing tone for another minute. Talking to his friends had made him see what a difference five years could make. What about him? What had he accomplished in the last five years? He'd moved down seven floors in his apartment building, got a new job and had three unsucessful relationships. Four if he counted Cat.

_Cat..._

Greg started typing. Sending a text to an old mobile that Greg knew Cat had thrown away years ago. She'd been showing off her new phone in the lab for months. It felt good to give out some of his emotions, even if they would never be read. It was like when he was younger, and he used to tie a message to a helium ballon and send it into the air, wondering who would read it.


	11. Flying high

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own CSI.**

_But even then I knew I'd find a much better place_

_Either with or without you_

The next time she called it was nine o clock in the evening. Greg was watching a Law and Order omnibus when the phone rang.

"Hey therrre..."

"Cat?"

"Yeah... it's me Cat... Catty Cat Cat..."

"Cat? What is it? What's going on?"

"Hello I'd like a... wait hold on... I'd like a..."

"Cat are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm goood. I'm goooooooooood. I'm gooooooooooooooo..."

"CAT! What is up with you?"

"I want a pizza with... wait what do you call that stuff?"

"What stuff? What are you talking about?"

"Yellow stuff. Mice eat it. And cats eat mice and dogs eat cats and...no wait... that's not right. Who eats cats?"

"Cat are you high?"

"Nobody eats cats. Cats are fluffy. They drink milk and they have...whiskers! They have whiskers! And eyes and ears and mouths and... Cheese!"

"Cheese?"

"That's the stuff they put on pizza! I want a pizza with... with cheese!"

"Cat! Listen to me."

"Okey-dokey, pizza man."

"Are you listening?"

I don't know, are YOU listening?"

"Cat, have you been smoking?"

"Smoking... smoking hot, yeah I'd like a smoking hot pizza with cheese and cats! No wait... no cats."

"Cat, listen to me. This is Greg?"

"No, no, no, no, no thank you. I do not want any Greg on my pizza. No Greg. Pancakes!"

"Yes, we made pancakes, and we squirted cream. Remember Cat? I'm coming over there."

"Yes, of course you are. You have to bring over my cat."

"Cat. My name is Cat. Your name is Cat."

"No Cat, I'm Greg."

"Greg? Thats a funny name. Fun to say. Greg. Greggity Greggity Greg! Hey I know somebody called... wait what was it again?"

"That's it Cat, I'm on my way."

"Cat. That was it. And cheese."

Greg hung up and stopped for a moment, unsure of how it had gotten so bad all of a sudden. Grabbing his jacket, he ran out the door, not even bothering to lock it because Cat was more important. He was going to run, it seemed very dramatic and poetic but then he told himself to stop being poetic and just help Cat. So he drove.

"Cat?" he called, opening her front door gingerly.

"Are you the man with my Chinese food, I ordered Chinese food?"

"CAT!" Greg yelled, checking all the rooms in the apartment until he found her, sitting on top of the washing machine, swinging her legs back and forth and singing. Lindsey sat on the ground, she was screaming and trying to pull her mother down.

"Greg?" Cat asked him, momentarily pausing her performance of "Follow the Yellow Brick Road" to wave at him.

"Oh God Cat..." Greg said, taking in the crying child, singing woman and open bottle of pills.

"Do you hear that? Swoosh, swoosh swoosh." Cat said, getting down and staring at the clothes inside the washing machine. "Look, they go around and around and around."

"Greg decided to attend to Lindsey first, so he washed her, changed her and put her to bed on the sofa. Then he went back to Cat. By now she had calmed down and was lying across the floor softly humming "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" Greg sighed and helped her up, pulling her into his arms and rocking her back and forth gently. She began to giggle quietly into his shoulder and Greg lifted her into her bedroom and placed her gently on the bed. Knowing better than to leave her, he lay down beside her. Greg took off his jacket and laid it over Cat. He knew there were lots of things they had to discuss but it woyld have to wait until Cat was back to normal.

The next morning she didn't wake up until nearly two o' clock and Greg had already fed Lindsey and sat her in front of the television. When she finally opened her eyes, the first thing she did was groan and close them agian.

"Cat. Wake up."

"Greg? What are you doing here?" saying his name aloud trigerred a few memories in Cat's head.

_Greg? Thats a funny name. Fun to say. Greg. Greggity Greggity Greg! _

"Cat..." Greg began and more things came flooding back to her.

_Nobody eats cats. Cats are fluffy. They drink milk and they have...whiskers! They have whiskers! And eyes and ears and mouths and... Cheese!_

"How often do you smoke marijuana?" Greg was asking her calmly.

"Em... just when it gets really bad."

"What gets bad?"

"That thing... where you can't sleep. Insta..."

"Insomnia?"

"Yeah. That."

"You have insomnia?" it was making sense now. That's why she called him thinking somebody was coming to get her when really it was just a storm.

"Sometimes. Only when I have too much."

"Coffee?"

"No. Coke."

"Coca Cola? That used to make me crazy when I was a kid, it's got like acffeine and a ton of sugar right? Sheesh Cat, how much Coke have you been drinking?"

"No. Coke as in crack."

"You're on cocaine? Cat, this is serious! When did you start that?"

"I was low, real low. The come down from the shrooms was a bitch and..."

"Shrooms? Cat what else are you on?"

"I gave up the shrooms. But it was driving me crazy, being all cold turkey so one of the girls at work gave me some coke and, yeah it cheered me up."

"For like, an hour, then it's worse again, Cat, what were you thinking?"

"I can handle it. I only take it when I'm real down."

"And what about the marijuana? Let me get this straight, to make up for the shrooms you took cocaine and when the cocaine keeps you awake at night you take marijuana? And where does the alcohol fit into all this Cat? The tequila and the whiskey and the voldka and the gin? What totally-excuasable circumstance makes you have the alcohol?"

"I just like a drink every now and again, that's it. No problem."

"There is a problem Cat, you're throwing your life away. Your daughter..."

"I think I can raise my daughter myself thank you very much."

"But you can't Cat, that's the thing. You can't even take care of yourself, what am I supposed to do?"

"You're not supposed to do anything. It's my life, and I can live it whatever way I want."

"I can't let you live like this Cat, nobody should like like this!"

"Oh yeah, cos you know everything about me, everything about my life."

"You have a daughter, she's your responsibility. If you won't change for me, won't even cha nge for yourself, do it for Lindsey."

"My mom raised me at arms length and I'm ok, I do fine."

"I don't know what you think doing fine is, but trust me Cat you're anything but fine."

"Your mom may have wrapped you in a little cocoon until you were ready to face the big bad world but I'm not gonna do that."

_His mom. Her hugs. Her scream._

"What my mom did and didn't do is nothing to you. This is about you, Cat, nobody else."

_"I'm sorry Mr. Olaf, but your daughter didn't make it...injuries too serious...say goodbye...poor child...so sorry..._

_The overheard conversation between his grandfather and the doctor after his mothers accident was one he would never forget. He was a 'poor child' now, without a mother. It was his fault. If he'd just been more careful with the stupid glass bottle she wouldn't have run out. If she hadn't been so worried about him she would have heard the bus, seen it coming. It was his fault._

"You know what Cat" Greg said, interupting her rant about how she was not Greg's responsibility "you're right. Why should I care what happens to you? You've brought it all on yourself. Why don't you just go to hell."

He stormed out, not bothering to get his jacket, not bothering to say goodbye. Then he got in his car and he drove and drove until he was in the desert, the hot Nevada desert where there was no people, no cellphone reception, no noise exept the wind. Greg turned on his stereo and closed his eyes.


	12. Oranges and Cinnamon

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own CSI**

**The scene with Grissom, Warrick and Greg is from Random Acts Of Violence from season 3.**

_The five years we have had have been such good times_

_I still love you_

* * *

Greg was leaning against the door talking with a lab tech. She was giggling at whatever it was she was saying. Catherine doesn't remember ever seeing her before.

Grissom and Warrick were walking down the hallway toward him. He turned around and Catherine looked at the lab tech. She was gazing adoringly at Greg.

_Was that what I looked like?_

"Greg." Grissom called, "How many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie pop?"

Greg turned back to the girl "The world may never know." he replied, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

The girl giggled. Grissom looks at her disaprovingly.

"Just see if you can get some DNA off of this stick, would you?" Warrick asked, handing the evidence bag with the lollipop inside to Greg.

"All work and no play make Greg a dull boy ..." Greg told Grissom. The girl, sensing Greg has moved on, turns to leave.

"All play and no work make Greg an unemployed boy." Grissom replied.

The Jacqui Franco came out of the lab. "Hey, Grissom. Your stovepipe ..."

Grissom and Warrick followed her back to the lab. Greg went back to his lab. Catherine was following the girl.

She went into the locker room. Catherine stood by her locker, pretending to be looking for something. She opened the locker that said THOMPSON and Catherine immediantly checked the list of employees she kept in her locker. Yep, Amy Thompson, brand new fiber and hair technician. Today was her first day. How nice of Greg to show her the ropes. Catherine hated feeling jealous. _Greg flirts with everything that has two legs_, Catherine reminded herself. _Him talking to a lab tech doesn't mean anything. _Notmanaging to reassure herself, Catherine changed her train of thoughts _even so, how does it affect you if he is flirting with her? How does it effect you if they get married and have ten kids? _But that was even more hopeless than the last thought so Catherine settled for telling herself that Amy Thompsons eyes were too far apart anyway.

* * *

Greg had gotten good at being ok. He had gotten good at forgetting, at ignoring, at moving on. He laughed with Nick and Warrick, tried to impress Grissom, hung out with the other lab rats. He flirted with girls, he showed off in front of guys, he was Greg. Greg was beginning to get tired of DNA. He wanted to be a CSI, and not just because of the whole superiority thing (although he would love being able to boss other people around) Greg wanted to be able to solve crimes, to put bad guys away and make the world a batter place. Sadly, there weren't any openings for superheroes in Vegas so Greg would settle for CSI instead.

He thought about Cat a lot. He wrote conversations in his head, apologies, explanations and just a few cheesy pick-up lines. It was harder writing Cat's responses. She was to hard to read, Greg had no idea what she would say, how she would respond. And Greg couldn't face rejection.

"Hey man, you alright?" A Texan voice asked him.

"Yeah, yeah I'm good." Greg replied, suddenly aware that he'd been sitting in the locker room facing the wall for half an hour now.

"Yeah right." Nick scoffed, sitting down beside him "what's up?"

"I'm having trouble facing my fears" Greg replied eventually.

"Fears? What are you afriad of man? Heights? Spiders? The dark?"

"Bottle banks."

"Bottle banks? What did they ever do to you?"

Greg pondered over this question. He had never really explained his bottle bank phobia to anyone before. But Nick was staring at him, his eyes honest and trusting and Greg suddenly needed to tell someone, to talk to someone. So he told Nick the story of going to the bottle bank with his Papa Olaf, seperating bottles into three colours. He told him about his angry Momma and dropping a bottle on his head. Then he told him of the bus. The squeal of brakes. The scream. The blood, his Momma's blood, on the road. He told him how it was all his fault.

Nick said nothing for a moment, just patted Greg on the back as he cried silent tears.

"What happened to your mother was terrible, but it was a terrible accident. An accident, Greg. It wasn't anybodies fault, especially not yours. All you're guilty of is dropping a bottle on your head."

"I know that, deep down I do, I just can't help but think..."

Greg's voice trailed off and Nick pulled him into a hug, wrapping his strong arms around the younger man.

And neither of them knew this, but somebody else was listening. She was pressed aginst the door, tucking her red hair behind her ear so she could her properly. She was almost crying too. She wished she could help. But the woman knew what that would lead to, and she had promised never to go there again. A promise she regretted every day.

* * *

"How was school Lindsey?" Catherine asked her eight year old daughter as she walked into her house. It had been a slow day and Catherine had been able to come home and see Lindsey.

"It was great mom, next week, I was the first one finished our math assignment and I get to bring in something for show and tell tomorrow!"

"Great. What are you gonna bring in?"

"The guitar I got from Santa Claus last year. I'm going to play a Hannah Montanna song."

"Good idea. You should practice for me later."

"I will. Can I have something to eat? I'm starving."

"Just something small, dinner will be soon."

"Hey mom, you know my phone?"

Catherine smiled. "Lindsey's phone" was an old one of Catherines that she let her daughter use as a toy.

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Why doesn't it turn on?"

"You have to charge it."

"Can we?"

"Lindsey, none of your friends have cellphones. Who are you gonna call?"

"I just wanna play games on it Mom!"

"Fine, I'll have a look for the charger."

* * *

He had never been in a perfume shop before. Sure, Greg liked to say he treated a girl well, and he had often bought presents for his girlfriends but Greg had never felt comfortable buying perfume for a girl. There were so many different fragrances, and most of them smelled the exact same to him. Greg preferred to give more personal gifts, sometimes funny things. One time Greg had broke a mug at one of his girlfriend's houses, so he had searched the city looking for the exact same one and then bought it, along with a matching saucer, dinner plate, bowl and cutlery set. Another time his girlfriend was always complaining that she didn't see enough of him because of his job so Greg had made her a lifesize, talking, cardboard cut-out of himself. It said "I love you" and "Wanna watch televison?" and "I'm on my way home right now" when you pressed one of the buttons on its Hawaiin shirt. Greg had only given jewelry to one girlfriend, because to Greg jewelry showed a pretty big commitment, and Greg had only ever had one really serious girlfriend, but sometimes, looking back, Greg wondered if she'd ever really been his girlfriend at all.

When Greg had been wwalking paast the perfume shop en route to the grocery store he'd smelled something that had drawn him in. Oranges. Cinamon. Some spicehe still couldn't put a name one. And Greg's body had drifted into the shop of it's own accord, bringing his head with it.

"Excuse me m'am" Greg called to the shop assistant.

""How can I help you sir?" she asked, taking in his leather jacket and well fitting jeans.

"I'm looking for a perfume... I... I don't know whats it's called, or what it looks like...but it smells like oranges and cinamon and some sort of spice, not a spicey spice, or a herby spice but like a... a sexy spice you know?"

The woman nodded at him, taking him very seriously. She'd obviously just by looking at his clothes that he had enough money to spend to make it worthwhile to humour him.

"Well sir, we have a collection of perfumes that smell like oranges over here, and I think several have cinamon. Do you have a budget?"

"No ma'm, it's just...there's this girl and she always wore this perfume and now... I smellled it in here and I need to find it. Money's no object." He added.

This seemed to make the shop assistant happy and she took out several bottles of perfume from their boxes on the shelf. She sprayed them onto those little pieces of paper they give out in perfume shops and handed them to Greg.

"This is it." he said, showing her one of the strips.

"Ah" she smiled, finding an unoped box for him. "I should have guessed."

Greg handed over the money, quite a lot of it actually, he wondered how Cat had been able to afford it in the first place, and the assistant wrappped up the perfume for him and put it in a bag with lots of mini testers for hand-cream, body lotion, some aromatic shampoo and body oils, whatever they were.

"For the girl." she smiled. "If she likes these, tell her to come in some time and we can find her some full-size bottles."

"Thanks, I will." Greg nodded, taking the bag.

"I hope she likes the perfume." The woman added, as Greg left the store.

"I'm sure she will" Greg replied, heading to the grocery store.

In reality, Greg had no intent of actually giving Cat the perfume. He just had to have it.

* * *

"Mom, my cellphone keeps telling me I have messages?" Lindsey hollered down the stairs from her bedroom.

"Who have you been texting Lindsey?" Catherine yelled back.

"Nobody, I swear." Lindsey insisted, coming into the kitchen.

"Show me." Catherine replies, holding out her hand for the phone.

Lindsey reluctantly gave it to her and Catherine went to check the messages. There were seven altogether.

Two were from her old hairdresser, informing her of new deals. Another two were from Lindsey's nursery, telling her that her fee was due, and thanking her for helping out at the school trip. Catherine had obviously sent these people her new number, but the messages were dated two years ago nd Catherine had since found a new hairdresser and started her daughter in elementary school so they weren't really relevant. One was from her mobile network, another was from an old high school friend whom Cat had never sent her new number to and the last was from Greg. Greg Sanders. It was dated just a few days ago.

_He knows I have a new number. _Cath thought. _How did he guess I would turn on my old phone and read this. If it wasn't for Lindsey, I would have probably thrown this phone away. How did he know? Maybe he just forgot that I got a new phone. Or maybe I've told him before that I kept this._

But as Catherine began to read the text, she got a feeling Greg had never meant for her to read it.


	13. Winners and Losers

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own CSI**

**OK, back to the past, the year 1997, when Greg is twenty two. Thought I'd better point out, just in case you haven't figured it out yet, Cat is Catherine. I'm sure most of you guys got that right away but just to be safe, you have been told.**

_But now I think it's time I live my life on my own_

_I guess it's just what I must do_

* * *

"Hit me."

The blackjack dealer handed him another card. Greg, who never really understood the rules of this game gazed at the cards in his hands, unsure of what to do next.

"Hit me" he said again. Joey had been wrong. This was a terrible game.

Then a man walked past him and stopped, turned around and looked over his shoulder at the cards.

"Hey sonny, don't you get no more cards, you hear me?"

"What do you mean?"

"If you get one more, you'll be bust and you got some high numbers there, you gonna beat that dealer, you here me?"

"Em sure."

The dealer came over and counted Greg's cards.

"We have a winner" he announced.

"I told you, you was gonna win." the man told him.

"How much you got down for this game?"

"I'm not sure." Greg admitted. He'd been too angrey and upset so all he really remembered was buying a drink, sitting down at the table and throwing out all the money he'd had in his pocket.

"Two hundred and seventy one dollars and sixty eight cents." The dealer told him.

"You gon' be rich ma boy!" The man shouted as the dealer went off to collect his winnings.

Somehow, that didn't make Greg feel any better. All he could think about was Cat.

* * *

An hour later, Greg was at the slot machines. If he hadn't known better, he would have said it was his lucky day. But he did know better. No matter how much money he won, no matter how many plastic cups he filled with quaters, no matter how many poker opponents he beat, Greg was still sad.

_Why should I care what happens to you? You've brought it all on yourself. Why don't you just go to hell._

Cat had been the one good thing in his life and yet she was a druggie. The wrost part was, Greg had known all along. He'd known, but he hadn't tried to help. Pancakes and whipped cream fights and joking about microwaves, what good had that done?

_It's my life, and I can live it whatever way I want_

Lindsey. Lindsey needed help too. Greg shouldn't have just stormed out, he shouldn't have said those things to Cat, now she was never going to let him help her.

"Greg?" Greg turned around and found himself face-to-face with Sam Braun, the casino manager.

"How do you know my name?" Greg stuttered, looking around for cops or bouncers and at the same time wondering what he'd done wrong.

Sam Braun was big deal. He owned too many casino's in Vegas to count and he was reported to have several politicians and judges in is back pocket.

"I swear, I haven't been cheating, look you can take all my money if you want."

But Mr. Braun was shaking hus head and smiling at Greg.

"You're not in any kind of trouble young man." Sam told him, sitting down next to Greg. "You're the man who's been helping out Catherine aren't you?"

"Catherine... you mean Cat?" Greg asked, confused.

"Yes, Cat. She's an old friend of mine and I just want to thank you, for getting he rout of that job. There's so long I've wished that I have been able to do the same thing."

"I can't help Cat, the drugs, and the drink, she won't listen." Greg told the older man.

"She's a tough nut alright, but she's worth it." Sam told him. "Here" he said, holding out a cheque "this is to say thank you."

"Sir, I can't..." Greg protested. "Just take it." Sam smiled, putting the cheque into Greg's jacket pocket.

"That's for not giving up on her when everybody else did."

* * *

Greg hovered outside the door for ten minutes before finally knocking. Cat opened the door and immediantly Greg was hit with the smell of alcohol and marijuana. He could just hear Lindsey crying, over the loud music and bad singing of the people in her apartment.

"Greg. What the hell are you doing here?" she asked him. Greg could smell whiskey on her breath but luckily, no marijuana. That was good. It meant he would at least e able to talk to her.

"Can I come in?"

"No."

"Listen, Cat, I'm sorry about what I said, but now I'm really here to help you."

"I dont want your help, you sonofabitch!" she yelled.

"I'm gonna come back when you're sober." he told her.

"It would be better if you never came back at all." she told him. She slammed the door in his face and Greg stood there for a while, thinking about what to do next. Eventually, he just left the box outside her door and drove home.

* * *

It was eight o clock in the morning when Cat's doorbell rang. She got up, surprised that there was no naked guy in her bed or girl she'd never seen befor epassed out on her couch. Lindsey was still crying. She had lungs of a warior.

Cat opened the door and found herself staring up at Sam Braun.

"I came to check up on you." he told her "heard you quit your job."

She beckoned him in and they sat down on the sofa.

"Yeah. I did."

"This was outside your door." he told her, holding up a black jewlery box. She opened it and found a silver charm bracelet,

"Wow." she smiled. "It's beautiful."

The only guy who'd ever given her an expensive present before was Grant, he'd sent her expensive perfume and silver stilettos after getting her pregnant.

"Do you know who it's from?" she asked him.

"No. I was hoping you would." Sam replied. "Anyway, I have to be going."

"Wait Sam." she said."I know how we can figue it out" She found a pot of pink eyeshadow and a little brush in her make-up bag.

"What are you gonna do?" he asked her.

Cat dipped the brush in the eyeshadow and began to brush it over the box. She blew off the excess. "Will you get me some tape?" she asked. "Second drawer on the left."

Sam gave her the roll of sticky tape and Cat stuck some onto the box, then pulled it off and stuck the tape to a sheet of paper in her notepad.

"Now" she said "we just need to find something to compare it to."

Cat opened up the fridge and took out a bottle of whipped cream. She brushed the eyeshadow onto the nozzle and used the tape to lift it off.

"Give me your glasses." she told Sam, who took his reading glasses out of his pocket and handed them to her. He looked confused.

Cat put the two pieces of paper witht the tape down on the table and held Sam's glasses over them.

"I get it." he told her. "You're using my glasses to magnify whatever it is you have on the paper."

"You got it." She told him. "Take a look."

"You took his fingerprint using eyeshadow?" he asked her, looking at the piece of paper.

"Yep. And it looks like the prints match right?"

"So whoever touched the whipped cream sent you the bracelet?"

"That's right."

"Who touched the cream?" he asked.

"It's a mystery." she said, thinking of whipped cream fights with Greg.

"Well, I really got to be going." he told her, giving her a hug "I've got a doctors appointment."

"What happened?" she asked him, walking him to the door.

"I think I drunk a little too much wine and my stomach is unsettled. Nothing major."

"You don't need to go to a doctor" she told him. "Your stomach just has too much acid. You need to neutralise it with an alkaline, Try eating spinach."

"Thanks you Catherine." he said, "You may have saved me buying a prescription."

"Always happy to help."

"As am I. If you ever need anything, anything at all, please, don't be afraid to ask.

Then he left. She never understood him, why he was so interested in her, but not in a romantic way. It was wierd. She also didn't understand why Greg would send her a bracelet. She put it in her jewlery box in her room. She could deal with her feelings later.


	14. Holding on again

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own CSI**

**This chapter is set after chapter 11, the flashbacks of Greg is from various different episodes, from season one onwards and the conversation between Catherine and Greg is from Forever, season three. Sorry for jumping from season two to season three and skipping lots of episodes but this is an AU fic, so just pretend they all happen one after the other.**

_Don't, don't you want me?_

_You know I can't believe it_

_When I hear that you won't see me_

* * *

He had had a lot of girlfriends. Two years ago, Brianna. His first girlfriend since Cat. She had been pretty. A little dumb, but pretty.

_"You know I love you. Yes ... no, I love you more. No, I love you more."_

_Nick cleared his throat. Greg turned around and saw Nick standing there. He finished up his phone call._

_"Bye, baby."_

Nick had been mad at him for getting behind on the lab work. He'd told Grissom who'd forbidden Greg to use the phone in the lab except for emergencies. Brianna didn't want to waste all her credit phoning Greg and he wasn't alllowed to use his mobile phone in the lab because the ultra violet rays could destry the evidence or something. So, after not talking to each other for weeks at a time, they'd broken up.

Then there was Lily. She'd came to Vegas on vacation and Greg had met her at a bar. Sadly, she'd gone back to Hawaii after two weeks and Greg had tried to visit her, but never had the time or money. He had tried though.

_"So how many grains of sand in the ocean, huh?"_

_"I don't care about the ocean, just the sand in my skeleton. Can you pinpoint a beach?" Nick had asked him._

_"I don't know. I might have to do some field research. Hey, you think Grissom would send me to Hawaii?"_

_"Why don't you ask him yourself?"_

_"Ask me what?" Grissom had said, coming into the room._

_"Oh, nothing. I, uh ... I was just telling Nick about your sand. Well, it's not sand. It's not natural anyway. Here, check this out. Now, if this were natural sand, the surface would be smooth. This looks more like Fremont Street on a Saturday night... rough."_

_"Could the particles be sediment from the concrete where we found her?" Nick had asked._

_"No. No way. I analyzed the mineral content. It's feldspar and quartz. That's crushed gray sandstone. It's man-made, in a rock crusher."_

_"What does that mean?"_

_"It means she wasn't killed in Hawaii." Grissom told Nick. "Other than that ... he has no idea."_

Sadly, Greg had never been able to visit so eventually she broke up with him. By letter. How romantic.

Then there was Clara.

_"Hey, Greg." Nick had said, coming into the lab._

_"Shh. I might be looking at the mother of my children here."_

_"Somebody's been putting in way too much overtime."_

_No, man, this is serious. I had a date last night and this girl has the most impossible green eyes. Just ... bamm. Shoulder-length blonde hair... intelligent ... and she smells so good."_

_"Cute toes?"_

_"Oh ... ideal._

_"Mmm."_

_"And none are longer than the big toe."_

_"Mmm."_

_"Both feet. But, you know, what I need to know is what's on the inside?"_

_"Oh, what's in her heart?"_

_"No ... her DNA ... and let me tell you - this girl has got some fine epithelials."_

_"Dude, you're sick. Man, you've officially lost it."_

_"No, no. There is this guy in Louisville. He charges 300 clams to test your spouse's underwear for foreign DNA. Now, that guy is sick. I'm just a romantic."_

_"But whatever happened to getting to know someone over coffee ... letting the relationship evolve? Romantic is sending flowers not bogarting her skin cells."_

_"Ahh, that's boring."_

Greg had really liked her. Until he found out she was married. Then he wished he had done that underwear-testing-thing. But he still hadn't been as upset as he had been when he and Cat had broken up. Because unlike the others, whom Greg had liked, a lot, he loved Cat. Or maybe still did. He wasn't sure.

* * *

Cat really wished she hadn't read that text. Now she was having second thoughts, no more like twenty-third thoughts about saying no to him. She had promised never to go there again. She didn't know what to do. So Cat just sat in the locker room, thinking.

"Hey Catherine." she turned at the sound of the Texan voice.

"Nick."

"You alright?" he sat down beside her, concerned.

"Fine."

Nick gave her a skeptical look and she attempted a smile.

"First Greg, now you."

"Greg?" she asked, looking up.

"Yeah, He's been off for a while now. I think it's something to do with the bus accident, you know, his first time in the field, kinda messed up a little?"

"Yes. I remember. That...that reminds me I need to get my evidence from him." She said, standing up. She had to face Greg eventually.

"Cath?"

"Yeah?"

"If you wanna talk later, I'll be here."

"Thanks Nick." she said, watching the retreating figure.

Catherine really needed to get the DNA results from her latest case. They'd found blood on a towel which may belong to their victim, Lori Hutchins. She couldn't put off going to see Greg forever.

_What was that smell? _

It seemed familiar. It was coming from Greg's locker. Catherine looked over her shoulder, and once she was confident that the coast was clear, she pulled a hair slide out of her hair and used it to pick open the lock on Greg's locker. It opened.

Lab coat, hair gel, keys, wallet, spare shoes, forensics journal, MP3 player and a bottle of perfume. Catherine recognised the smell, it was the perfume Grant had sent her after she found out she was pregnant with Lindsey. The perfume she used to wear when she was dancing. The perfume she'd probably worn the first time she talked to Greg.

It brought her back, thye one place Catherine never wanted to go again. Brought her back to dancing and drugs and drinking and dreaming of a better place. It brought her backto Grant and Sam and whipped cream fights with Greg. Bracelets from Greg, crying into Greg's shoulder. It brought her back to being in love. Grissom had once said _"Scent triggers memory more acutely than any of the five senses"_

Closing the locker, Catherine took a deep breath and went to find Greg. She needed her DNA.

* * *

She strode into the DNA lab. Greg smiled at her, just like he always did.

_Nothing's different. _She reminded herself. _He doesn't know that you know about the text or the perfume. He doesn't know what you're feeling._

"Blood on the paper towels was the vic's, Lori Hutchins. Found DNA on another area, however. Epithelials with two donors." Greg told her, handing her the sheet of aper with the results.

"By who?" Catherine asked, being careful not to look him in the eyes.

"Well, the vic and ... someone else." Greg said, twirling around on his desk chair.

"Are you being cagey?" Catherine asked, putting a hand on the chair to stop the spinning.

"I'm trying to transition out of cagey. You got to round up some more swabs. Neither Harpo ..."

"Harper." Catherine corrected, coldly. Professionalism was the best she could do right now.

"Whatev-O. Neither She nor Rhone Confer was a match." Greg said, giving her a goofy grin. Catherine had to mentally restrain herself. Then, luckily her phone rang. She answered it.

"Yeah?"

* * *

Catherine went home that evening, no longer confused but angry. Angry at herself for the way she felt, angry at Greg for making her feel this way. Catherine wasn't sure what she was going to do next, what she was going to say, if she would say anything at all. In the end, Catherine realised that the only thing she was really sure of was her feelings. And so, just this once, Catherine decided to let her feelings lead the way, she decided to follow her heart, no matter how cheesy that sounded. And so she opened up her jewlery box and put on the silver charm bracelet. She decided to follow her heart, even though she knew exactly where it would lead her.


	15. The world keeps spinning

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own CSI**

**OK, I suppose you've got the hang of it now, past, present, past, present and so on, but I feel I better say it anyway just to be safe - this chapter goes back to five years ago, 1997. Just a short chapter this time, and it's written in third person instead of from Greg or Cat's point of view. The things written in italics are Greg or Cat's thoughts. Hope this chapter isn't too confusing.**

_Don't, don't you want me?_

_You know I don't believe it_

_When you say that you don't need me_

* * *

It was pouring rain and the skies were grey. All the casinos, bar, restraunts and clubs were buzzing with people and despite the weather, tourists, criminals and hookers crowded the strip. Even a few local law-abiding citizens of Las Vegas, Nevada were there but these people were becoming more and more rare. A man called Gil Grissom was investiagting a homicide in a cinema and huge crowds of people were gathered outside the doors, booing and demanding the crime scene investiagtor left immediantly so they could continue watching their film. A woman called Lily Flynn was talking to a police officer on the phone. Again. And two people were sitting in their apartments. These two people didn't have that much in common. One lived in a modern apartment that his parents had paid for, with stylish yet comfortable decor and a widescreen television. The other lived in a small, dirty apartment on the bad side of town. Her boss had paid for it. One was twenty two, the other was twenty seven. One was sitting on a cream leather sofa, the other on an old green armchair with springs poking out of it. One had red hair. The other could never remember what colour his hair was. Both were missing their mothers, neither of them had ever known a father. The main thing they had in common however, was their thoughts.

* * *

_What am I going to do? I love her. I can't push her away, but will she really want me to pull her in again after what I said? _

The man got himself a beer from his fridge. Another door opened simultaneously and a redheaded woman stared into her fridge. She got out a half-emty bottle of wine.

_What am I going to do? I think I love him. Why did I try to push him away, will he ever come back after what I said?_

The man pured half the beer into a glass. He brought it to his lips and drunk.

_Was I in the wrong? I was only trying to help, but she's right, it's not my responsibility._

He took another gulp of his beer. The woman pulled the cork out of her wine.

_Was it my fault? He was only trying to help me, and he's right, I do need help._

The man drunk faster, savouring the warm feeling in his stomach as he drunk some more.

_If she doesn't want my help, I can't force it on her, but I can't just leave her and not try and make it better._

He finished his glass of beer. The woman hadn't bothered with a glass, she took a sip straight from the bottle.

_I do need help, and when I finally meet a guy who loves me enough to try and help, I push him away._

She stopped, staring at the bottle in her hands. She poured some into a wine glass instead and sat down on her chair again, thinking. The man was also thinking.

_If it was me, I'd be glad somebody helped me. Sure, at the time I may insist on doing it myself but looking back I'm pretty certain I'd be grateful._

The woman took another sip of her wine, not really tasting it at all.

_I have a daughter, I have responsibilities to her. I say I want a better job, a better lifestyle, yet I'm throwing it away. Why couldn't I have accepted his help?_

The man ran his fingers through his sandy blonde hair. He took a swig of beer from the bottle.

_She's so hard to figure out but it's not just her to worry about. If she doesn't like it, whatever, her and Lindsey will appreciate it one day._

The woman swallowed another mouthful of her red wine, which was all of a sudden tasting sour.

_I need to change for myself and for Lindsey. I'm a mother now, and if I don't change, I'll be no better than my own mother. That was everything I swore never to be._

The man tipped the bottle above his head, trying to get the last drops out. Going to the fridge, he got out another bottle.

_This is going to be hard to do, but I need to think about what I'd do if I wasn't in love with her. If she was just a radom person I'd met once or twice._

The woman lifted the glass to her lips once more, then put it down again.

_I've sent Greg away, the only person who can get me through this now is me. I'm through relying on a guy to help me, it's time to stand on my own two feet._

The man finished his second bottle of beer and got his phone out of his pocket.

_I can't be blinded by love, can't let her child suffer for her mistakes. I'm sorry Cat._

Then, the man punched some numbers into his phone. At the same time, the woman brought the bottle and the glass of wine inot the kitchen. She poured all the wine down the sink.

_I can do this. _She thought.

Somebody answered the phone. He took a deep breath. "Hello, social services?"

As the two people sat down again, wondering what to do next, they mirrored each other in their emotions once more.

_I've done the right thing. Not the easy thing, but the right one._

* * *

And outside the window, it kept raining. People kept walking, people kept talking, people kept living. Unbeknownst to the two people sitting in their lonely apartments, the world kept spinning. It always does.


	16. Ambulance rides

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own CSI**

**Alright, back to the future. This chapter is set during "Play with Fire" and yes, most of you who watch CSI will know exactly what that means! Some of the script comes from the episode, but some of it I made up myself. Just so you know, there is no Eddie in this story. Catherine was never married so the whole thing with Eddie dying and Lindsey trapped in the car in the river never happened. **

_Don't you want me baby?_

_Don't you want me ohh?_

* * *

Warrick and Catherine walked through the hallway of the lab. Warrick held the file of the case they were on and Catherine held a bag of green liquid, so far they still hadn't identified it.

"There's nobody in the evidence vault. I guess we're still between shifts." Warrick said, looking around the print lab.

"Yeah, well, we'll log it in tomorrow." Catherine replied, her mind not on the case.

"You know, O'Riley interviewed the victim's wife." Warrick told her,

"Yeah?" Catherine asked, trying to get her mind back on her job.

"She said her husband was in the garage drinking and just "done fell over."

They walked into the print lab. Catherine opened the fumer and put the bagged container of green liquid inside next to the burn plate. She closed the fume hood again.

"Oh, the ever-popular DFO." Catherine said, sarcastically. "Right up there with the "mysterious dude" defense."

They left the lab and walked down the hallway.

"Right. You thinking poison?"

"I wouldn't be surprised. Wife had two priors for spousal abuse. Seems pretty straight up to me." Catherine replied, busying her mind with thoughts of the case.

"Well, that would be nice - an easy case."

"Yeah." Catherine replied.

"These double-ups are killing me."

They reached the front desk where Catherine signed the log book on the counter. Sensing that the conversation about the case was over, Catherine quickly searched her mind for another topic. Anything but leave her mind to idleness.

"Although I'll take it when I can get it. These nannies do not work cheap." she finally said.

"Yeah, how is Lindsey, by the way?" he asked her.

They headed down to the break room.

"Great. She won't stop playing her guitar since the sucess of show and tell. Wants me to send her for lessons." Catherine smiled.

"She could be a rockstar."

_He's wearing a latex glove blown up on his head, a paper mask with lips and teeth on the front, and plastic glasses. He's playing air drums to the extremely loud pulsating music with a test tube grasped in each hand as drumsticks while wearing thick black rubber gloves._

_The C.D. player blasted out the lyrics to Marilyn Manson's "Fight Song"_

_... doesn't exist _

_I'm not a slave to a world that doesn't give a shit /_

_And when we were good _

_You just close your eyes _

_So when we were bad_

_We'll ..._

_Grissom switches the music off. Greg stops. He takes the paper mask off of his mouth and smiles._

_"I could have been a rock star."_

"Catherine?" Warrick waved a hand in front of her dazed face.

"Sorry. Just... something on my mind."

"Yeah, I could tell. Wanna talk about it?"

"No."

"Come on Cath..."

They were interupted by a beeping. Warrick pulled his pager out of his pocket.

"Grissom." he told her, reading the message. "Gotta go. You sure you're ok?"

"I'm fine." she told him.

He walked off to find his supervisor. Catherine sat down at the table and played with the bracelet on her wrist. It turned out, making the decision had been the easy part. The hard part was telling him.

* * *

Grissom stopped in the DNA lab where Greg is working. He looked around the door.

"How'd you do with the nail clippers?"

"Right over here. Figured it wasn't high priority since I'd already ID'd the semen in the victim."

"That only proves that they had sex. The nail clippers can place Jason Kent at the murder scene. His nails, her DNA, traces of the booth, et cetera."

"Killer, victim, location."

"Holy trinity, Greg. I need that."

Greg nodded at him and Grissom nodded back and left the office.

* * *

He was working in the lab when he turned around, away from the fumer. Suddenly, there was a huge blast and the fumer exploded, the force of the explosion propeeling Greg into the air. He was sent crashing through the glass wall, the sound of glass shattering ringing through the lab. There was a thud as he hit the floor. Flames erupted from the fume hood and the fire alarm started beeping loudly.

Sara was blown off her feet by the explosion. She lifts her head and looks in front of her, stunned. In front of her lies Greg, he raises his head a little, blood seeping from a cut on his forehead and multiple other cuts all over his body. Then he put his head down again into the pile of broken glass around him and closed his eyes.

The lab erupted into chaos. Several people callled 911 at once, requesting firemen, police officers and ambulances. Some people ran to the door, desperate to escape. Others stood, frozen to the spot. Several people, ran to the hallway to survey the damage. Soon, emergency teams arrived. Everybody was evacuated out as the firemen set to work putting out the flames. Greg was put onto a stretcher and carried out.

* * *

He could hear voices. "Vitals are stable. We've got full thickness burns on the neck and back." That voice was unfamiliar.

He opened his eyes again and looked around. The lab was a mess. Was this his fault? He was wheeled out into the car park.

"Burn unit. Let's move" he didn't recognise that voice either.

"...Going with him..." that voice sounded familiar, but Greg was too disorientated to put a name on it.

"...Can call you...no use to him..." this was a man's voice. Grissom! Gerg smiled internally, glad to have identified one of these voices. The thinking made his head hurt. Then the woman was talking again. He still couldn't remember how he knew her and it was driving him crazy.

"...need to go..."

Then he was being lifted into a van. There was a slam as the doors were slammed shut, then he felt himself moving again. The enigne rattled and Greg felt as though he was being bumped up and down. His head hurt. Sighing softly, Greg closed his eyes and gave and let the blackness envelop him.

* * *

She held his hand, squeezing it lightly and kept whispering to him but if he was aware of her presence, he didn't show it. She urged him to stay with her, told him that it was goint to be okay but he closed his eyes again.

"I love you" she whispered.

**Thank you to **

**C.H.W.13 - Thanks a lot for your review, I'm not going to give anything away, but you're pretty close.**

**Greggo123 - I updated and added several chapters at once, just for you. Thanks for reading my story.**


	17. Taken

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own CSI**

**OK so back to five years prior to the last chapter. I'm running out of lyrics but I am close to the end of this story so I suppose I might just start repeating lines?**

**Anyway, enjoy.**

_Don't you want me, baby?_

_Don't you want me, ohh?_

* * *

He headed over to her house, apology in his head. He wasn't sure if the guys would have arrived yet, but they would certainly be coming soon. He hoped Cat would be able to forgive him for what he had done to her.

_I'm doing this for her. _He reminded himself. _Not to her._

Greg knocked three times on the apartment door. She opened it almost immediantly and Greg could smell her perfume again. Nothing else though. Just perfume.

"Greg." she whispered. "Come in."

He looked around the apartment, unsure of what to say. Cat seemed to be in the middle of a spring clearout. A pile of alcohol bottles lay in the middle of the floor along with crack, marijuana and several perscription bottles. Lindsey sat on the sofa, playing with an empty sauce bottle, opening and closing the lid again and again. She was still there.

"Greg" she began, pushing the door shut behind her. "You were right. I need to take better care of myself and Lindsey. I've cleaned up my act, I promise. Thank you for trying to help, it...it means so much that you would be willing to help me even when..."

He interupted her then, stepping closer to fill the space between them and crashing his lips into hers. She kissed him back and Greg felt himself getting lost in her. She ran her fingers through his hair. Greg broke away from her.

"You're a strong woman. I shouldn't have tried to force you to do anything."

"But you did it for the right reasons. And Greg? I love you."

"I love you too Cat. So much." he whispered.

Then there was a knock on the door. Cat turned to open it and several uniformed men burst in.

"L.V.P.D. we're here to remove Lindsey Flynn from a potentially dangerous situation."

_Shit._

"Dangerous situation?" Cat asked, incredulous.

"Possible cases of neglect, drug and alcohol abuse were reported to Social Services who thoought it best to call us and investigate the use of illegal drugs."

"Ma'am, are you this childs mother?"

"Yes and you can't just.."

"You're going to have to come down to the station. We got you for possesion."

"Wait, no, I'm clean, I swear, I'll take the test. Just leave my daughter with me."

"What is all that stuff on your floor ma'am?" a third officer asked.

"I'm throwing it all out, turning over a new leaf, I'm doing it for my daughter."

"We can't take that chance ma'am. We're going to have to take the child."

"Why are you doing this? Why me?" Cat was screaming now, tears pouring down her face.

"Like I said, the person called Social Services and said..."

"Oh, and let me guess the persons name is Grant?"

"Grant. No not quite, something like that though. Gr... wait, I have the report here. Greg. Greg Sanders?"

"Greg?" she was suddenly quiet, looking up at him, her teary eyes begging him to say it wasn't true.

"Cat, I'm sorry I only..."

"You reported me?" she didn't sound angry, only hurt. That was so much worse.

"Ma'am, why don't you come down to the station. My partners here will do a search of the house and paack up the child's things." The officer pulled Cat out of the house, although it wasn't very hard to do. She'd stopped fighting, stopped resisting, stopped yelling. She'd given up. Greg felt a sharp pain in his chest as they led her away.

"It wasn't her."

"Pardon me sir?"

"These things, they're mine. The drugs, the pills, the alcohol."

"What they doing at her house then?"

"I was trying to go clean and she was...she was helping so she took them all from me, I thought she was gonna throw them out."

"Why'd she keep them then?" the officer was looking interested.

"To em... to help me avoid temptation I guess?" Greg replied, looking around the flat.

"Then why'd you report her for being an unsuitable mother?" the policeman asked. "Why did you say, and I quote "I'd like to report a potential case of child neglect, the mother had signifigent problems with drug and alcohol abuse and the child should be removed for safety reasons." Why'd you say that?"

"I was disillusioned from the pills."

"You didn't sound like you were having a trip, I heard the recording."

"It wasn't the crack, or the marijuana, it was the...the... the valium?"

"The officer went to look at the pile. He picked up a half-empty pill bottle and held it up to Greg. "This valium?"

"Yeah." Greg said, sighing with relief. "Cat is not a bad mother, she's only taking the fall for this to protect me."

"Well, com down to the station. We'll have you chaged for possesion and wasting police time.

"Okay officer." Greg replied, getting into the squad car that was parked outside.

* * *

They were interogating her when another officer came into the room. He whispered something in the detectives ear and the detective stood up.

"You're free to go ma'am, uncharged and we are sorry about all this. You can pick your daughter up now. She's in layout room six, with one of our female officers." Catherine picked up her precious daughter and hugged her as if she would never let her go. She wasn't sure what had just happened or why they let her go without charging her, she was just happy that it was over.

When she got home, Catherine threw the whole pile into the bin. She then changeed, bathed and fed her daughter an tucked her up tightly in the bed she had recently invested in, kissing her on both of her soft, pink sheeks. Then, she walked into her room and for the first time since arriving at the station, she cried. She cried for what she had almost loast, but maily for what she had lost. Because she really had lost him. Or rather, he'd lost her. She took off the bracelet and put it into her jewlery box.

_No matter what happens, _she promised herself _I will never take him back. Never. I'm never going to go there again. _

Those words were to haunt her for the next five years of her life.


	18. Fireflies

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own CSI**

**This chapter is still set during "Play with Fire" the dialogue with Catherine and Greg (and the bit with Warrick) are from the show but the other scenes are improvisation. The song is Fireflies by Owl City. Which I don't own. Listen to it, it's a great song. Anyway, enjoy the next chapter.**

_You were workin' as a waitress in a cocktail bar_

_When I met you_

_I picked you out, I shook you up and turned you around_

_Turned you into someone new_

* * *

How could she have let this happen? Catherine hadn't slept in eighteen hours but strangely, she didn't even feel tired. She promised herself that she wouldn't rest until she figured out what happened to Greg and the adrenaline pumping through her worked better then caffeiene. Warrick had gone home hours ago but she stayed, sifting through the remains of the DNA lab. She heard a voice behind her.

"Still here?"

Catherine turned around to see Grissom raising an eyebrow at her.

"Yeah." she replied, picking up the charred remains of the printer.

"You need to get some rest."

"I can't sleep until I know who did this to Greg."

"You're leaning towards attempted murder?" Grissom seemed surprised.

"If he hadn't been facing the opposite way from the fume hood when it exploded, it would have killed him." she replied.

"Yes, but you don't think it was an accident? They do happen you know, and he's a smart guy, buy Greg isn't exactly..."

"This was not Greg's fault" she cut him off. "And it was not an accident."

"Who would want to hurt him Catherine?"

"I don't know. Hodges. That girl at the reception. Somebody from days. All I know is, somebody wanted to kill him. And we have to find them."

"Catherine, you heard the doctors, he's going to be just fine."

"Grissom, I just need to do something..."

"He won't be concious for another six hours. Go home, get some sleep, then come back in and get his statement. He might be able to explain all of this."

"But Griss..."

"Now Catherine. Or else I'm going to have to suspend you."

"Fine. I'll be back later."

"Good. Get some sleep."

"Thanks, Gil." she said, turning to leave. And to her surprise, she actually slept. Deep, dark, dreamless sleep. When she awoke to the sound of her alarm clock five hours later, she felt more ready to catch a killer than ever.

* * *

Catherine and Warrick headed to the hospital ward where they found Greg who was conscious and lying on his side on the bed.

"Look, I'm pretty tired." he began as soon as Warrick told him why they were there.

"This won't take long, Greg. We promise." Catherine insisted, refusing to meet his eye.

"Why don't you tell us exactly what happened. As best as you can remember." Warrick asked him.

"I was working three cases. Mixing solvents."

"Did you notice anything prior to the explosion? A power surge, a spark, a smell? Catherine inquired, not lifting her eyes from the case file.

"Plastic. Burning plastic. I turned around to see where it was coming from." he paused. "After that ... I'm sorry."

"It's okay." Warrick told the young lab tech.

"We done?" Greg asked.

"Yeah, we're done. Feel better, all right?" Catherine said, turning to leave.

"Get some rest." Warrick said, smiling at Greg. He could look him in the eye.

* * *

Greg sighed with relief.

_Thank God. _

But, annoyingly, Greg wasn't tired anymore. He looked at the plate of thoroughly unappealing food sitting on the nightstand.

A nurse came in.

"Are you not hungry Mr. Sanders?"

"No thanks." he replied, and thankfully she took the plate away. Good. It was making him nauseous.

He still wasn't tired so he tried fiddling with his bandages and counting sheep. Unfortunately, Greg couldn't seem to control the sheep very well. Even thought they were in his own head, he couldn't slow them down enough to count them, they moved far too quickly. So Greg gave up on sheep and settled for tapping his fingers on the nightstand. Dammit. He was hungry now. Starving actually. He toyed with the idea of using the call button beside his bed to ask for more food but he didn't want to be annoying.

"How you holding up Greggo?"

Greg looked up to see Nick and Sara coming into his room.

"Fine. Hungry though. But I can't ask them for food since I just asked them to take it away five minutes ago."

Sara and Nick laughed then sat down in the plastic chairs beside his bed.

"Well" Sara began, "lucky for you, we brought takeout."

She lifted a pizza box out of the paper bag she acrried and Greg's eyes lit up. Sara lifted the lid filling Greg's nostrils with the most delicous smell and he launched himself at th pizza as if he hadn't eaten in weeks. It felt that way.

"Hey, slow down there G." Nick laughed, taking two slices of pizza and passing one to Sara.

"I thought this was my pizza guys? Hands off." Greg demanded, reaching out to grab the pizza box away from his friends.

"Hey, we haven't had dinner yet either." Sara insisted, taking a huge bite of her pizza. "We didn't think you'd feel like eating and we definately didn't think you'd mind sharing."

"I should have guessed by the fact that there's no meat on it that it wasn't intended just for me" Greg said sadly.

"Yeah man, I shouldn't have gotten the vegitarian pizza" Nick said "One with meat would mean more for us."

"It's not her I'm worried about" Greg laughed, gesturing at Nick, who was enjoying his third slice of pizza.

"Yeah Nick, save some for the rest of us." Sara replied, sticking her tongue out at him.

The three friends laughed until Greg's head began to hurt.

"Hey, we got more presents" Nick told him, reaching into the bag again. He handed a pile of things to Greg.

"Ooooohhh... forensics weekly magazine and a diabolical sodoku book." Greg laughed, opening the first wrapped parcel.

"Hey, you're missing the best bit" Sara told him, and Greg took another look into the discarded paper.

"A mechanical pencil. Let me guess, this was from Grissom?"

"Got it in one." Nick laughed. "Here, this is from Warrick."

"The new Pink Floyd C.D! I've been waiting for this." Gregt exclaimed. "Say thanks to him and Grissom for me, will you?"

"Sure. This is from me." Sara told him, handing him a gift bag.

"Hair gel! He laughed "The good stuff too. And what's in here?" Greg asked, opening up the gift box inside the bag.

"Blue Hawaiin! Thanks Sara" Greg said, inhaling the fresh coffee scent."

"This is from Catherine" Nick told him, pulling a paper bag out out of the big bag and giving it to Greg.

"Socks." Greg said, confused "and a scented candle."

Sara and Nick exchnaged puzzled looks.

"Anyway, this is from me" Nick said, trying to break the tension. Greg took the gift-wrapped parcel and opened it. Nick had brought him his MP3 player.

"I downloaded a playlist of hospital songs on it for you." Nick told him. "Heavy metal isn't great when you have a headache."

Greg took out a couple of candy bars from the parcel. Then he tound a ball of wool and two needles.

"What's this for?" he asked.

"They say knitting is a great hospital hobby" Nick laughed, taking something out of his pocket. "This is a pattern for the sweater I want you to make me."

"Oooh, I want a sweater too!" Sara laughed, pretending to pout.

"Nobody is getting a sweater." Greg told them, throwing the ball of wool at Nick. Unfortunately, he missed his head.

They stayed for a while longer and talked about everything from work to co-workers to who was going to win the next presidential election. When visiting hours were over, Greg still couldn't get to sleep. He felt exhausted but his mind was too busy wondering why Catherine had given him socks and a candle, when even Warrick who hardly knew Greg had given him something more personal. He turned on his MP3 player and decided to give Nick's "hospital playlist" a go.

_You would not believe your eyes_

_If ten million fireflies_

_Lit up the world as I fell asleep_

_'Cause they'd fill the open air_

_And leave teardrops everywhere_

_You'd think me rude_

_But I would just stand and stare_

_I'd like to make myself believe_

_That planet Earth turns slowly_

_It's hard to say that I'd rather stay_

_Awake when I'm asleep_

_'Cause everything is never as it seems_

_'Cause I'd get a thousand hugs_

_From ten thousand lightning bugs_

_As they tried to teach me how to dance_

_A foxtrot above my head_

_A sock hop beneath my bed_

_A disco ball is just hanging by a thread_

_I'd like to make myself believe_

_That planet Earth turns slowly_

_It's hard to say that I'd rather stay_

_Awake when I'm asleep_

_'Cause everything is never as it seems_

_When I fall asleep_

_Leave my door open just a crack_

_(Please take me away from here)_

_'Cause I feel like such an insomniac_

_(Please take me away from here)_

_Why do I tire of counting sheep_

_(Please take me away from here)_

_When I'm far too tired to fall asleep_

_To ten million fireflies_

_I'm weird 'cause I hate goodbyes_

_I got misty eyes as they said farewell_

_But I'll know where several are_

_If my dreams get real bizarre_

_'Cause I saved a few and I keep them in a jar_

_I'd like to make myself believe_

_That planet Earth turns slowly_

_It's hard to say that I'd rather stay_

_Awake when I'm asleep_

_'Cause everything is never as it seems_

_When I fall asleep_

_I'd like to make myself believe_

_That planet Earth turns slowly_

_It's hard to say that I'd rather stay_

_Awake when I'm asleep_

_'Cause everything is never as it seems_

_When I fall asleep_

_I'd like to make myself believe_

_That planet earth turns slowly_

_It's hard to say that I'd rather stay_

_Awake when I'm asleep_

_Because my dreams are bursting at the seams_

* * *

"Damage radiates from here." Catherine told Warrick, pointing at the fume hood.

"Well ... there's no crater."

"Yeah, so it's not a high explosive."

"I guess we're looking for a combustible liquid?"

"Yeah. That narrows things down."

Catherine picks up the burner off of the ground. She looks at the switch and sees that it was pointed on.

Somebody left the hot plate on inside of the fume hood. Genius.

Warrick help up somethign, it was burnt beyong recognition.

"What do you think? Developer pan?"

"Presence of acetone, methanol, all kinds of combustibles."

"Mix that with a heat source, and what have you got?"

"This." Catherine replied, pointing at the lab.


	19. A little help from my friends

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own CSI**

**Ok, this chapter is set the day after the last chapter set in 1997. Just so you know, DUI means driving under the influence (of alcohol or drugs)**

_You were workin' as a waitress in a cocktail bar_

_When I met you_

_I picked you out, I shook you up and turned you around_

_Turned you into someone new_

* * *

"Gregory Hojem Sanderson, you are under arrest for the possesion of illegal drugs, you have a right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law, you..."

"Mr Sanders?"

"Judge McCormac, we are just about to charge this man."

"Let him go."

"But Your Honour, he..."

"Now officer."

"Ok your honour, if you're sure."

"I'm sure."

"Alright then. Uncuff him boys. You're free to go."

"Thank you. Why did you release me?"

"A friend of mine asked for a favour, and well, he's done enough for me."

"A friend?"

"Yes. Also made a very generous donation to my...the state's account."

"Well, thanks again."

"Yeah, yeah."

Greg breathed a sigh of relief as the judge went back to his car in the parking lot. He hadn't gotten officialy arrested. Thank God. If he spent even one night in a jail cell, it would go on his permanent record and his whole life would practically be over. He walked into the foyer of the police station. There, sitting on one of the chairs was Sam Braun.

"Greg!"

And he remembered him.

"Mr Braun?"

"Please, call me Sam. Did they arrest you?"

"No, they were just about to when the wierdest thing happened..."

"Joudge McCormac?"

"Yeah how did you..."

"You and I know that they weren't your drugs. And let's just say the judge and I are...old friends."

"Thank you. But why..."

"Cat means a lot to me. And I'd hate to see her get hurt. And wether she believes it or not, you getting arrested is bad for her."

"How do you know Cat?"

"Family friends."

"You know her mom? Lily, isn't it?"

"We dated back in the day. Still keep in touch."

"Does Cat know..."

"No. No of course not. She didn't even meet me until she came to Vegas. I got a frantic call from Lily, who I hadn't seen in years and the very next evening she came to one of my hotels to stay. Took one look at her and knew."

"You knew who's daughter she was." thought wheels were turning in Greg's head. "You're her father, aren't you Mr Braun?"

"Sam. And yes."

"Why didn't you tell her mom where she is?"

"I couldn't do it to Cat. She needed better than her mother. I loved Lily, but she didn't love herself enough to take care of herself well...she got into a real bad place."

"Like Cat?"

"Exactly. And for the last nine years, I've been desperate to help Cat, to make sure she doesn't make the same mistakes her mother did. But I can't get too close. Can't let her see the real reason why I care so much. So I've had to watch her suffer. And then you came along."

Greg was unsure of what to say next. Sam Braun continued.

"You cared about her, enough to try and help. And I want to help you. I want to help you help Cat."

Grge nodded. After everything that had happened he still wanted to help her.

"We can fix her."

"Yes. And by the way, have you been eating whipped cream with Cat?"

"How did you..."

"She checked the prints on the box and compared it to prints on a bottle of whipped cream. Using eyeshadow."

"Woah."

"Yeah, she's smart. More than people give her credit for. Should have been a scientist instead of a dancer."

"I know where she'd fit right in."

"Where?"

"Here." Greg gestured around him.

"She would make a great detective." Sam agreed.

"But you have to work your way up from security guard first, she needs a job now. I was thinking investigator."

"At the Vegas Crime lab?"

"The second best lab in the country." Greg acknowlged. He'd tried to get a job there as a DNA tech but the position had already been filled.

"I know a few guys, maybe I could pull some strings?"

"That would be great."

"But nobody is going to hire her with the record she has. A few DUIs and she got busted for possesion twice before. Also stealing, when she first moved to Vegas she was broke and there was only so much money I could give her without seeming..."

"I get it."

"I could talk to a judge, maybe get one of my guys to..."

"No way. You can't do that, it could ruin your whole career."

"Kid, I'll be fine."

"Let me do it. I can take care of her record."

"Alright, if you insist."

"I do."

"Well, I better be going. New casino opening next week. Thank you."

"No, thank you."

"Good luck Mr. Sanders, I'm sure you'll turn out well."

"Thank you sir."

"Goodbye now."

* * *

He couldn't believe he was doing this. He wheeled his cleaning trolley down the hall and wrinkled his nose uncomfortably under his thick glasses.

"Sorry sir." he said, in what he hoped was a convincing Australian accent. "Gotta clean the records room."

"Sure. go ahead." the officer replied, opening the door for him.

Luckily he didn't look too close at the fake I.D. that Greg had clipped to his coveralls.

As soon as the door was shut, Greg ran over to the shelves. A...B...C...D...E...F...Farthing, Fitzgerald, Fitzwilliam...Flynn. Andrew Flynn, Amy Flynn, Brendan Flynn, Bertha Flynn, Carlos Flynn, Catherine Flynn. Bingo. Greg pulled the file off the shelf and threw it into the garbage bag he was carrying. Luckily the computer was left on. Good. He didn't have to try and guess the password. Catherine Flynn...searching...there she was. Greg pressed "delete all records and data" and watched as all her charges, her fungerprints and he mugshot disapeared, replaced with a blank screen. Mission accomplished. Then he left the office, left the building, pulled off his disguise and delivered the cart back to the cleaning supply shop. He went home and burnt the record.

* * *

Greg had only one thing left to do. He opened up the newspaper to a list of properties available in Vegas. He settled for a two-bedroomed apartment on the good side of town and bought it using the money he'd been saving. Greg had quite a lot of money, his parents had always been well-off, so had his Papa Olaf. Greg went to meet the estate agent later that day. He payed for the house, got the keys and dropped them off in Cat's letterbox long with a note giving her directions and saying sorry for calling social services, wishing her the best of luck.

From that day on, a little bit of money began to appear in his letterbox each month, gradually more and more until the whole house had been payed off. Then it stopped. There was never a note, never a message. He never saw her again. It wasn't for lack of trying. He called, visited, waited around Vegas for a glimpse of her. He heard from Sam that she had found out he was her dad and stopped talking to him, cut off all contact, refused to even go for the interview at the crime lab he set up for her.

He thought it was the end. He grew accustomed to the fact that he would never see her again. But some things are written in fate, and fate cannot be changed. Greg didn't know that yet.


	20. I confess

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own CSI.**

**This chapter is set directly after the last one, so still "Play with Fire" **

_Don't, don't you want me?_

_You know I can't believe it_

_When I hear that you won't see me_

_Don't, don't you want me?_

_You know I don't believe it_

_When you say that you don't need me_

* * *

Greg's statement hadn't told them anything. Catherine was trying to figure out what happened by looking at their most reliable source: the evidence. As Grissom had once said "The evidence never lies." She was making a chart showing al the substances under the fume hood that had been blown back in the explosion. She had colour coded each object. Catherine was so busy adding blue dots to the red, green, orange, yellow, pink, purple, black and brown ones that she didn't hear Warrick come in.

"Hey." he said.

"Hey." she replied, turning around.

"Oh, you work fast." he said, looking at the chart. "Which color charts Hodges' developer pan?" David Hodges was their prime suspect. He put a developer pan under the fume hood and he and Greg weren't exactly the best of friends. Nobody really liked him.

"Blue." Catherine told him, pointing to the blue dots.

"The blue. That's 180-degree array. That's not the epicenter of the explosion." Warrick sighed.

"Hodges' pan wasn't the source. It got pushed out."

"By what?" he asked. Catherine looked at her chart. The red dots.

"By this. High primary frag." She checked her list. Red was... unidentified greeen liquid.

_Oh God no..._

_Unidentified green liquid. HER unidentified green liquid which she had put under the fume hood. It was her._

"Then who blew up the lab?" Warrick asked. Catherine swallowed twice. She turned to Warrick, tears beginning to form in her eyes.

"I did."

* * *

The sweater was actually looking pretty good. Greg never thought he'd be knitting a sweater for Nick, but when you've listened to all the music on your MP3 player ten times, have read your forensics magazine twice, done every sodoku in your diabolical soduko book and can't use your phone because the ultraviolet rays might "damage" the hospital equipment, knitting a sweater is actually a lot of fun.

"There." he said, satisfied at finishing the first sleeve. Nick was going to be so proud of him. Sure, there were a few gaping holes and one or two places where he'd messed up the stitches, but if you held it at arms length, closed one eye and squinted, it looked pretty good. Greg popped another piece of chocolate in his mouth and checked the clock again. Still four o clock. Visiting hours weren't for another thrity minutes. Greg decided to get some sleep so he put on the earmuffs one of the lab techs had sent him (to drone out the noises of the big machine making sure he was breathing properly) and closed his eyes.

* * *

"In any event, you placed this unidentified chemical under the fume hood." The director of the lab, Robert Covallo, was not happy.

"Right." Catherine nodded.

"Next to an active heat source." he continued.

"I didn't know that at the time."

"Because you didn't check."

"Unlogged evidence gets placed under the fume hood. A hot plate was left on. It's a lab. It's nobody's fault." Grissom addded.

"It's my responsibility. I didn't follow procedure." Catherine admitted.

"Why not?" Covallo asked.

"Because there's 24 hours in the day and I'm pulling 16 for the county, spending three pretending to sleep and the other five lying to my daughter that everything's going to be all right."

"There were 13 active cases in DNA. They are all now tainted or destroyed."

"What do you want to hear? I screwed up. I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't cut it. You're on suspension. Five days unpaid leave.

Catherine nodded. A break would actually be nice. And she definately had enough money to go unpaid for five days. She left the office, apologising once more. It wasn't them she should be saying sorry to though.

* * *

She pulled up at the hospital at half past five. She realised she still hadn't gotten Greg a proper present. She hadn't known what to get him, the only things she can think of reminded her of the old days, brought back memories. She hadn't wanted to remind Greg of old times, old memories. She didn't want him to get any ideas.

"I'm here to see Greg Sanders."

The receptionist peered at her from over the rim of her glasses.

"Do you know this man?"

"Yes. Of course I do. We work together."

"Walk this way." Catherine followed the receptionist who directed her to Greg's room.

Catherine slipped inside. He was fast asleep. Greg looked so peaceful when he slept, Catherine remembered watching him sleep for nearly an hour when they were younger. It was only five years ago, but it seemed like an eternity. So much had happened since then, and not all of it good. Settling into the uncomfortable plastic hospital chair, Catherine watched him sleep again.

She wasn't sure how long she sat there for. It could have been minutes, hours, days. All Catherine knew was thatt when he finally opened his eyes and looked around the room groggily, it wasn't long enough.

For a second, after he woke up, he didn't remember where he was. The he smelled the familiar smell of disinfectant and death and saw the white room with all the machines. He saw Catherine sitting on one of the plastic chairs.

"What time is it? he asked her.

"Late."

"How long have you been here?"

"A while. I got a little time on my hands."

"You figured out what happened in the lab, didn't you?"

"Yeah. Yeah, and, um ... I wanted you to hear it from me."

"What happened?"

"It was me." she whispered.

"You... tried to.." he looked shocked.

"No! No, it was an accident. I didn't try to but I put an unidentified substance in the fume hood, and the hot plate was left on and..." she babbled.

"It blew up." Greg stated, his tone flat.

"Yeah. Greg, I am so sorry. I will make it up to you, I promise." Catherine pleaded.

"OK." he said, in the same flat tone.

"OK?"

"Yeah. Ok, I believe you, it was an accident. I forgive you." hiss voice and face showed no emotion.

"Greg..."

"It's alright." He sounded dead.

Catherine looked into his eyes, searching for some emotion, some feeling, some anything other than this blankness. Then she found it. Hurt. And something told her it had nothing to do with the explosion.

* * *

He stared at her, unmoving. He wished he could feel relieved that nobody had intentionally tried to kill him, or even angray at Catherine for what she did. But he didn't. He felt the same thing he'd been feeling for a long time now. Nothing. In this emptiness that was his life, everyday had been different shades of grey. Sure, there had been patches of colour, when he found a new girlfriend, cracked a case for the CSI's or just bhung out with his friends or family. Sure, there were patches of black, when he'd messed up in the field, when he'd broken up with his girlfriend, at his mothers twentieth anniversary memorial service. Aside from these small variations, Greg's life had been devoid of anything. He just existed, didn't really live.

Then he noticed a flash of silver on her wrist. She saw him staring. The bracelet. The bracelet he had left outside Cat's door five years ago.

"I wore it...because... Greg I miss you." she whispered, her face softening.

He didn't say anything.

"I wish what had happened never did happen and the way I've treated you...it's just been..."

He stared at her, unable to break himself free of the trance he was in.

"Greg, I still love you." she said, reaching out for his hand.

Suddenly coming back to life, something snapped in him. He pulled his hand away.

"Greg?"

She looked at him, confused.

"Greggie?"

"Don't call me that."

"Greg... I'm sorr..."

"Don't give me that crap!" he yelled "You pushed me aside, had your perfect life, treated me like dirt, when I try to reach out to you, you fucking slapped me. And now you expect I'll be right where you left me, waiting. I'm not a toy Cat, I tried to say sorry, tried to make you see, I helped you at your worst time, took the blame for you, made you who you are! And yet I was never good enough. So what, now you're lonely? Maybe you want security, maybe you need money or somebody to look after Lindsey. So you come to me, say you love me and expect that everything will be okay? It is NOT okay Cat. I am NOT okay. Do you have any idea what you've done to me? I am nothing now, a shadow of myself. You broke me Cat, and I had to pick up the pieces myself. It's too late now to come along offering superglue. It's too late. You never loved me."

She stared at him, her jaw open, frozen in time. Greg got up from his hospital bed, setting off an alarm signal. Greg thumped the machine and the beeping stopped. Throwing on jeans and a jacket over his hospital gown, Greg pushed all the presents off his nighstand ad into his rucksack. He slipped his shoes onto his feet and turned to leave. Then he stopped, reached into his bag and took something out.

"Here." he said, thowing a pair of socka and a candle at her. They missed by a mile which was good, because she was in too much shock to dodge them or even flinch.

"You might as well take these."

Then he turned and left, pushing past anybody who tried to stop him. The door slammed and Catherine stayed in the plastic chair, staring after the retreating figure through the window.

"I do love you" she whispered croakily. But he couldn't hear her.

**Ooooooh...Bet you didn't see that coming? Review please!**


	21. New beginnings

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own CSI**

**Alright, this chapter is technically still in the past but it's actually not the past-past. Greg is twenty four now, so this chapter is set in 1999, two yers after the previous chapters set in the past. And, as you might have noticed, I'm out of lyrics so I'm repeating them again, but at double the rate I was last time.**

_It's much too late to find_

_You think you've changed your mind_

_You'd better change it back or we will both be sorry_

* * *

It had been two had been a good citizen, paid his bills on time, recycled paper and cardboard, voted in elections, picked up litter he saw on the street, donated blood twice. It didn't help. Neither did becoming a sponsor for Alchoholics Anonymous, or donating money to Nevada's biggest drug rehab centre. It didn't make it worse either, like searching the streets for Cat with Sam Braun. It didn't make it better or worse, it just made it tolerable. And for Greg, tolerable was intolerable. He began to lose contact with Matt, Karl and Joey. He missed his friends. Greg made new friends of course, people that he worked with, people that lived in his apartment building. They were the sort of people you go out for drinks with, or have over to watch a football game. Greg had friends who were girls, several who wanted more than friendship, but Greg wasn't interested. Lokking at the exotic dancers in the French Palace didn't do him any good either.

Greg had spent two years avoiding all memoried of Cat, moved apartments, stopped eating whipped cream, refused to eat anything with oranges and cinnamon in it. He'd ran away when he saw somebody with red hair the exact same colour as Cat's and he'd never listened to "We Are Young" again. He hadn't gone for another interview at the Vegas Crime Lab, because even though Cat had never even gone, it still reminded him of her. But he had to get over it. The pay scale was better, the working conditions were better, and they apparently had a better coffee machine. Greg was smart enough to know that he was way over-qualified for working at The University Research Centre, especially since he wasn't even the one doing the researching, just the one who made coffee and opened jars and occasionally took notes. When he'd read in the newspaper that The Vegas Crime Lab was looking for a new DNA tech, Grge had decided that he'd let Cat hold him back long enough. That was how he'd ended up walking throught the big double doors and into the foyer, being given a visitors patch that read Gregory Sanderson and led into a Gil Grissom's office.

"You must be Gregory" a salt and pepper haired man was getting up rom his chair and shaking Greg's hand.

"Greg." he told him. "Everyone calls me Greg. Sir."

"Gil Grissom" he said, gesturing towards one of the chairs in front of his desk. Greg sat down. The office was like something out of a cartoon, the mad scientist had jars lining the walls, filled with insects and strange liquids, intestines and what appeared to be a pig. There was a framed photograph of a spider on the wall and a tarantula in a cage. The walls were painted dark green and every single bookshelf was filled with books, magazines and encyclopedia. There was a huge pile of paperwork on his desk and a beekeepers suit hanging up with lots of coveralls and an LVPD FORENSICS vest in the corner.

"Mr Grissom, I am here to apply for the job of DNA anaylasist."

"So is half of Vegas. Why should we pick you?"

"I studied Forensic Biology, DNA and History in college. Here is my resume." Greg slid the folder across the table. The older man put on hsi glasses and began to read it.

"I also worked as a DNA researcher at University Research Centre for two years. And I learnt a lot from my supervisor, Thomas Oakman. There's aletter of recommendation from him there. I think that DNA testing is a job that I can do well, because I have a great interest and a great knowledge in the subject. Also I find that when..."

"What do you really think?" The old man asked, giving him a quizzical look.

"I... what I said..."

"Those aren't your opinions. What does Greg think?"

"I think... I think that I've been working at a job I'm overqualified for for two years, I've watched all my friends move away, get married or engaged, buy houses with their families. I've watched them all get their dream jobs and I've been stuck where I am. Stuck on some girl..." Greg trailed off.

Mr. Grissom looked at him curiously.

"Stuck on some girl and some things that happened years ago. Anyway, I think it's finally time for me to move on, to move forward. And this is what I've always wanted to do. Catch bad guys, corner them with evidence. I watch Law and Order. And Cops. I know what I' getting myself in for"

The man's expression changed. He seemed to sile, but Greg couldn't be sure. This man was harder to read than the Mona Lisa. He looked Greg up and down.

"You know, most of the people we've had in here have been wearing shirts and ties."

Greg looked down at his skinny jeans, Hawaiin shirt and red converse boots.

"Technically" he said, gesturing his patterned top, "this IS a shirt."

"You're the first person wearing jeans. And those aren't exactly dress shoes."

"Well, you aren't wearing dress shoes either." Greg retorted, poniting to the man's working boots. "At least mine match my top."

The man was wearing brown boots with black trousers. Greg's shirt had red flowers on it. He had a feeling he was winning so far.

"What about your hair?" the man aksed raising an eyebrow at Greg.

"My hair is my best feature, I've been told."

"And is it...is it naturally that colour?" Mr Grissom gave Greg's sandy brown tipped with blone hair a skeptical look.

"Is your hair naturally that colour?"

"Yes."

"So you were born with grey hair?"

"No, but..."

"Yeah, well I wasn't born with this colour hair either then. We have so much in common, don't you think?"

Gil Grissom smiled. "Will you be dressing like that, and spiking your hair for work every day?"

"Yeah. And I'll probably be playing music in the lab too. Marilyn Manson and Rage Against The Machine. But, I will always deliver results. Always on time. You can rely on me."

"Alright then, Gregory Sanderson, we'll be in touch."

"Greg. And I shortened it to Sanders. Less Norweigan."

"You're Norweigan?"

"A little"

"A little?"

"Not a lot." Greg responded, before leaving the office. He didn't like his chances.

* * *

"You interviewing a murder suspsect in your office?" Jim Brass asked Gil Grissom, looking at the reterating figure.

"He was here to apply for the job of DNA technician."

"Dressed like that?" the homicide detective looked confused.

"I like him. I'm going to give him the job."

"Him? What about that guy in the three piece suit? Or the English one? I like the English one."

"First appearance deceives many."

"I can always tell when you're quoting Gil. Who said it?"

"Ovid."

"The Greek guy?"

"Roman. Aincent classical poet and author."

"Yeah, him. Alright then, if you want to hire this guy, do."

"I will."

"You will what?" Catherine asked him. He hadn't even noticed her coming into the office.

"We were just talking about the new DNA guy Gil is going to hire." Captain Brass explained.

"Right. What's he like?"

"You don't want to know" Brass told her, leaving the office.

"Why don't I want to know?" she asked Grissom.

"His name is Gregory Hojem Sanderson. He..."

But Catherine didn't hear anything else after that. She cut him off.

"I'm sorry, I have to go."

Grissom looked at her, puzzled, as she left.

* * *

_It couldn't be the same guy. Just beacuse Gregory Hojem Sanderson is kind of like Greg Sanders doesn't mean it's the same guy. _

She tried to remember Greg's middle name.

_I don't think he ever told me. But anyway, there's no way it could be him._

Catherine had covered her tracks well. Once she'd found out that Sam had been her father, she'd cut him out of the picture too. She'd sold the house Greg had bought for her and found a new one, almost as expensive. She'd started sending Lindsey to nursery, and now she went to one of Vegas's best elementary schools. She had changed their last name to Willows, found that her criminal record had mysteriously diappeared. At first she'd thought it was to make up for arresting her wrongly, when in reality it hadn't been wrongly at all. However, after wroking here for two years, she had a pretty good idea of the law and knew that they don't just get rid of your record. She assumed it had been Sam. He was a powerfull man. Catherine had almost not gone to this interview because she wanted to stand on her own two feet, didn't want Sam looking after her. She was glad she had gone. Gil Grissom had liked her, even though she had no experience and a not-so-good resume. Two years later ans she was assistant supervisor. She had helped Grissom hire Nick Stokes and Warrick Brown as well as several lab techs. Today she'd been out investigating a shooting so she hadn't gotten the chance to meet the new guy.

_So what if it is Greg? You paid him back for the house, you don't owe him anything. Besides, you are the assistant supervisor. He's just a lab tech. All you have to do is give him evidence, go get your results, and then leave. Easy. He won't even attempt to make conversation about anything other than the case. None of the lab techs do. _

But Greg Sanders would be no ordinary lab tech.


	22. Deja vu all over again

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own CSI**

**This chapter is in 2002, it continues on from the last one. Greg is twenty seven and Catherine is thirty two. The song is Don't Hold Your Breath by Nicole Scherzinger. Only two more chapters to go after this, tell me what you think. **

_Don't you want me, baby?_

_Don't you want me, ohh?_

_Don't you want me, baby?_

_Don't you want me, ohh?_

* * *

His apartment was cold. He was wearing three layers and had the heating turned up the whol way, but he was still cold. Cold on the inside. His back hurt. Greg wished he'd at least wited to get his perscription from the hopsital before charging out. Some painkillers would be nice.

The songs on the radio were making his head throb. Yet, somehow, he couldn't turn it off.

_I was under your spell for such a long time couldn't break the chains_

_You played with my heart tore me apart withall your lies and games_

_It took all the strength I had but I crawled up on my feet again_

_Now you're trying to lure me back but no those days are gone my friend_

_I loved you so much that I thought that someday you could change_

_But all you brought me was a heart full of pain_

_You can't touch me now there's no feeling left_

_If you think I'm coming back don't hold your breath_

_What you did to me boy I can't forget_

_If you think I'm coming back don't hold your breath_

_I was worried about you but you never cared about me none_

_You took my money and I know that you, you could kill someone_

_I gave you everything but nothing was ever enough_

_You were always jealous over such crazy stuff_

_You can't touch me now there's no feeling left_

_If you think I'm coming back don't hold your breath_

_What you did to me boy I can't forget_

_If you think I'm coming back don't hold your breath_

_Move on don't look back_

_I jumped off a train running off the tracks_

_Your day is gone face the facts_

_A bad movie ends and the screen fades to black_

_What you did to me boy I can't forget_

_If you think I'm coming back_

_You can't touch me now there's no feeling left_

_If you think I'm coming back don't hold your breath_

_What you did to me boy I can't forget_

_If you think I'm coming back don't hold your breath_

The phone was ringing. Greg thumped the covers of his bed in an attempt to locate it. Finally he found it and flipped it open.

"Sanders."

"Greg?"

"Matt?"

"Yeah, it's me. Just wondering, I was in town and wondered if you wanted to go out for a drink? For old times sake?"

"Yeah man, that sounds great."

"Say, the French Palace again?"

"Your wife won't mind?"

"Nah. Come on, it will be fun."

"Sure. I'm in. See you there in about an hour?"

"Great."

Greg went to get changed. It would be good to have something to take his mind off her.

* * *

He was right. That was what hurt most of all. He was right.

Catherine downed another drink.

She had broken him. If she thought about it, she realised she'd known that for a long time but had never admitted it. She had hurt him, and apologizing had only made it worse. There was only one thing she was wrong about. She did love him.

She got up off the bar stool and debated calling a cab. She'd left her cell phone at home and decided to walk to the French Palace. She would probably find one of the girlswho used to work there still did, and Catherine needed to talk to one of them. She couldn't talk to anybody at work because that would mean explaining her history. Catherine din't feel like explaining. The French Palace was at least 14 blocks away and she was wearing 6 inch heels but she set out into the Vegas night, not even feeling the rain on her skin.

* * *

For two hours, he'd been happy. Then Matt had to go home. Now Greg was sitting on the bar stool, wondering how he noever smelled the marijuanu here before, how he never noticed the girls taking drinks from little silver whiskey flasks. He was wondering how he didn't see the bruises on them that he suspected had something to do with their boss, how he didn't notice their sad eyes. But Greg was through trying to help. He grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair an headed towards the door. Then the door opened and Greg recognised several police officers, along with Nick. Nick Stokes.

"Everybody freeze." That was Captain Brass.

"What's going on?" a man yelled.

"We found evidence that there are several drug dealers here."

"Oh shit, a heist." somebody else yelled.

"Everybody quiet! And turn off the music." one of the cops demanded.

"Didn't we tell you all to stop moving?" Nick asked, he hadn't seen Greg yet.

Nobody stopped. Most people tried to get out the windows since the cops were blocking the only exit. Others ran and locked themselves in the bathroom. Several tried to hide behind the bar or baricade themselves into the dancers dressing room.

Greg new about the other exit. Keeping his head down, he ran to the back door, which was hiddedn behind a curtain. It was the door he'd used when going out to meet Cat. The same Employees Only sign was still there.

* * *

She finally arrived. She decided to sneak in the back door since she didn't have enough money to pay the entrance fee. She was barefoot, carrying her heels. Walking around the back of the club, rubbing her arms to keep warm Catherine felt a sense of deja vu.

"Hey there." somebody called out from the shadows.

"Who is it?" she called, trying to make sense of the silouhette in front of her.

"The boss. You tryin' ta get in for free?"

"Grant?"

"Wait a minute... Cat?"

"Em...no..."

"Yeah, it is you Cat. How've you been?"

"Fine...listen I need to..."

"Come over here, give Grant a hug. Tell me more about where you're at?"

"Grant, listen I got to go...talk to a friend..."

"Sure you do." he cooed. "I remember us you know."

"Grant..." she tried to pull away from his embrace but he held her tightly.

"Remeber all those nights out here, under the stars?"

"Let me go!"

"That's what you used to say. But you loved it really."

"Grant...no...I..."

He leaned in to kiss her, forcing her lips open and shoving his tongue inside her mouth.

"Mmmmm" he whispered "you taste just as good as always"

She pushed him back, and sent him crashing into the wall. When he got up, he looked angry, but Catherine was ready to face it. She wasn't some scared little girl anymore. What she wasn't prepared for though, was the gun.

* * *

He shut the door quietly behind him and tiptoed into the employee parking lot. He remembered the other time he was here. The memories overwhelmed him, he could almost hear Catherine screaming at Grant, his sleazy voice unfazed.

Then he looked up and it was real. It was happening again. Not sure if he was fighting his imagination or fighting for his friend, Greg yelled out.

"HEY!"

The people stopped moving, that proved it, it was real. He patted his pockets for his phone.

_Shit. _He must have left it at the club. Greg ran forward, looking at the black figures. The he took a step back. One of them had a gun. He started running again, not sure of what to do, just knowing he had to stop it.

"Catherine!" he yelled, trying to reach her in time.

Then there was a gunshot.

**C.H.W.I3 Thanks again for your reviews. I'm so glad you're enjoying this story, and I hope this chapter is good enough for you! I'm uploading the next chapter, the last one set in the past, after this. I will upload the final chapter (not counting the epilogue, if I do one) after you've read the next two. Please tell me what you think again because I love getting your feedback! And btw, I know you can't really delete criminal records just by pressing a few buttons but Catherine couldn't have gotten the job at the lab otherwise and I wanted Greg to do something else nice for her.**


	23. Old friends

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own CSI**

**Alright, this is the last chapter set in the past, a month after Greg's interview. This is the last chapter set in the past so it leads right up to chapter two (the first chapter set in the future) even if the two years in between are described in a bit of a blur.**

_I was working as a waitress in a cocktail bar_

_That much is true_

_But even then I knew I'd find a much better place_

_Either with or without you_

* * *

He'd been surprised when Gil Grissom called and offered him a job. He'd accepted, of course and had even bought a new Hawaiin shirt to celebrate. Upon arriving, he was greeted by Mr. Grissom who'd given him a five minute tour of the lab before showing him to the DNA lab, where he would be working.

"So, Nick Stokes is in the break room now, he'll probably be in soon, our other two CSI's Catherine Willows and Warrick Brown are out on a case. I'll be in my office if you need anything."

_Catherine. Cat was short for Catherine. But she was Catherine Flynn, not Willows._

Before Greg could get the chance to ask about any of these CSI's, Grissom had left.

"Hey."

Greg looked up. A man with brown hair, probably a little older than Greg was standing in the doorway with a cup of coffee.

"Hey." he responded.

"You must be the new DNA guy. I'm Nick Stokes, one of the CSI's."

"Pleased to meet you."

"Has Ecklie seen you yet?"

"Ecklie?"

"Grissom's boss. He's not gonna like you."

"Why?"

"Well, he doesn't really like anyone. But he certainly doesn't like people wearing shirts like that."

"What does everyone have against my shirts?"

"Nothing man, they're just a little different to what everyone else wears. So is your hair."

"I like my hair."

"Good for you. You want coffee?"

"I tried it. Horrible. How can you drink that?"

"What, you got better coffee?"

"I'll bring it in tomorrow."

"Cool."

"So, are you the N Stokes I'm supposed to give these DNA results from an arson case to?"

"Yeah, that would be me. Thanks man, I gotta go show these to Grissom."

"Bye."

_So that was Nick Stokes. Now just Warrick Brown and Catherine Willows left to meet._

* * *

The new DNA guy reminded her of someone. It was his hair, even from the back, he looked so like Greg. Then she heard his voice, saying something to Nick about coffee. It was Greg. She turned the corner, nearly bumping into Warrick, and ducked into the bathroom. She stayed there, head in her hands, wondering what the hell she was going to do, for a while.

_Be professional. He's just a lab tech. You are his senior. Just avoid him as much as you can._

When she left the bathroom, she met Warrick.

"Hey Catherine, will you go get the DNA? I got a meeting with Ecklie and we need some solid proof if we're going to keep this guy in custody."

"Em...sure."

_So much for avoiding him._

She made her way to the lab and pushed the door open, her eyes glued to a case file.

* * *

At first he thought he was imagining it. Had Cat just walked into the lab?

_She must be Catherine after all, _he thought. _And she still looks pretty good._

Then she started talking, still not looking up from that cream coloured folder she was holding.

"I'd like the DNA results for the Fenton homicide case please."

"Cat? Do you remember me?"

"Catherine. And yes."

"Cat listen I've been wanting to talk to you about..."

"Catherine. My name is Catherine. And I'm too busy to talk."

"Alright, Catherine, whatever. When do you finish your shift?"

"Listen, Greg. It isn't going to happen. I think it's best if you treat me the way you treat all the other CSI's. Besides, no offence or anything, but I don't really have anything to say to a lab rat."

"I..." he began to protest, then stopped. What good would it do? All he was to her was a lab rat. So he swallowed his heart and nodded.

"Your results are under the microscope."

She looked at the sample's under the scope, then took the sheet Greg had printed out.

"Good." she replied. The she left.

* * *

Later in the day, Greg met Warrick Brown, the other CSI. He was also introduced to Bobby, Jacquie and Hnery, other lab techs. He talked to all of them and found that Henry used to be a DNA tech, he had changed to toxicology just a few months ago because he liked the view from the tox lab's window better. He also discovered that Archie liked surfing and cartoons, just like Greg himself. When he went home that day, he was happy. Happier than he had been in a long time. He knew that Cat was better. She didn't just look good, she'd got herself a good job, and seemed to have plenty of money, judging by the shoes she was wearing. Nick had told him that her daughter, Lindsey went to a private elementary school and that her grandmother looked after her while her mother worked. So Cat had gotten back in touch with her mother. That was good. He'd heard her laughing with Warrick and Nick later on in the afternoon and come to the conclusion that she was happy. If she was happy, he supposed that he was too. And at least now he knew where he stood.

* * *

She couldn't believe herself. After what he'd done to her, she thought she hated him. Even when he bought her a house she still hated him. And now, after one conversation with him, she found herself dwelling on his hair, and remembering how silky and soft it was. She found herself daydreaming about his chocolate brown eyes and how they had lit up when he'd seen her. She found herself remembering the taste of his lips, the feeling of his hands, running up and down her spine as she cried into his shoulder. She found herself making excuses for him and what he'd done, trying to think of logical reasons why he'd called Social Services to report her. She found herself wanting him again, loving him again, needing him again. But she was wrong. Or so she told herself anyway. She didn't need anyone. She was Catherine Willows, CSI level three, assistant supervisor. He was Greg Sanders, the younger, immature, lab tech. She didn't need him anymore, so why did she still want him? It was going to be a tough few years.

* * *

The days went by, turning into weeks, then months. Greg lost himself in himself, masking his feelings for Cat...Catherine, by making jokes. He became known as the funny guy, he flirted with girls, drove Grissom crazy, hoarded expensive coffee, held lab results hostage in order to have a conversation. People laughed at him, but they loved him really. Sara joined the team and it nearly killed Catherine when she noticed that Greg had a crush on her. This was only made minutely better by her discovery that Sara had a thing for Grissom, not Greg. Greg was friends with everyone, all the lab techs worshipped him for daring to be different. Nick and Sara thought of him as a little brother and even Grissom like him, though he would never admit it. Greg danced in the hallways, played his music too loud, hid porn in the cupboards, made people guess what chemical he was drawing, wore latex gloves on his head. He talked about girls all the time. Catherine and Greg learned to talk civily to each other, and nobody ever guessed that they knew each other before this job. Everybody loved Catherine too, but in a different way. She was respected. Everybody knew how beautiful she was, everybody loved it when her daughter came into the lab. Lindsey didn't recognise Greg, and she turned out to be a beautiful girl, very likeable, with just the right ammount of attitude. This could have been the end of the story. Unfortunately, Greg and Catherine's feelings still got in the way. They still loved each other. They had a history too big to be forgotten and eventually, these things catch up on you.

It caught up with them.


	24. Gunshot

**DISCLAIMER: I still do not own CSI**

**This chapter is set right after the last one in the future. I've used some other CSI's and a made-up charecter here to tell the story, so most of the segments are in their point of view. This is probably the last chapter, but I might do an epilogue.**

_The five years we have had have been such good times_

_I still love you_

_But now I think it's time I live my life on my own_

_I guess it's just what I must do_

* * *

They just wouldn't stop moving. Nick had checked with the bartender, there were a lot of sellers and buyers here, but the main suspect in Nick's triple homicide case, who was still at large, wasn't one of them. So it had beena wasted trip. He would have been better just staying in the lab. As the cops handcuffed people and brought them back to the station, Nick heard screaming from outside.

"Hey, Brass" he said, nudging the captain. "Do you hear that?"

Then there was a gunshot.

"I heard that." Brass said, calling the police who weren't handcuffing people to follow him. They ran out the front door and around the back of the club, to the employees parking lot, guns at the ready. Nick wasn't prepared to see what he saw.

"I need an ambulance at my location." Brass was yelling into his phone. "One of my guys has been shot."

Nick was frozen. Around him, officers were running after the guy in tight trousers who was running away. He didn't understand. Why were Greg and Catherine even hee? What were they doing in the employees only parking lot? How did they know that man? It didn't make any snese to Nick, and unfortuanately, the only two people who could tell him were on their way to hospital, one in a state of shock and one with a bullet lodged in their shoulder.

* * *

Rhona Bradley had worked in the emergency room for three years. She never liked when the ambulance arrived, bringing in patients fighting for thier lives. This time was no different. Once again, she had to physically seperate loved ones, or in this case, one, from the patient. She helped wheel the gurney into surgery and then passed things to the doctor. She was in charge of leaving every 15 minutes to fill friends and family in on the patients condition.

Rhona didn't know this patient. This patient wasn't special to her, was no different than all the others. But, just the same as always, she was delighted to inform the group of people in the waiting room that their friend was going to be okay.

"He should be out in a few weeks, the bullet didn't hit any major arteries, the only problem was blood loss, but we've fixed that now. Your friend will be just fine."

Gil Grissom was happy. Nick Stokes was happy. Warrick Brown was happy. Sara Sidle was happy. Unfortunately, Catherine Willows was far from happy. Rhona could tell that just from looking at her.

* * *

Catherines eyes were closed, but she wasn't asleep. She was still trying to understand what had happened. When Grant had pointed the gun at her, she had been scred. Very scared. She had heard Greg's voice and seen him out of the corner of her eye, running towards her and yelling. Then Grant pulled the trigger.

It sounded cliched, but Catherines life had flashed before her eyes. She remembered her childhood, with her alcoholic mom, moving from state to state, gettibng to know the many "daddies" her mom brought home each night. She remembered being a teenager, the first in her class to wear lip-gloss, have a cellphone, wear a bra, kiss a boy. Her mom had pretty much left her alone and left money lying around so Cat had gotten whatever she wanted. She just had to be careful not to bring any of her 'friends' over to her house. They weren't really her friends though. People who's opinion of you would be influenced by your apartment or your mother can't really be your friends. Followers was more fitting. Catherine remembered running away, getting the job with Grant and moving into her first apartment. She remembered going out with the girls and getting to know guys. She remembered drinking and buying drugs, then telling herself she wasn't like her mother. She remembered when she found out she was pregnant, having to take time off work, sitting alone in her empty flat. When Lindsey was born, she was so beautiful, but Cat could never believe she was real, was really hers. Then Catherine remembered Greg. She remembered when she first saw him, first talked to him, first met him. She remembered their argument, the police, cutting off all contact. She moved into a two bedroomed apartment, then sold it and bought a new one. Catherine remembered getting the job here, and making real friends. Grissom, Nick, Warrick, Sara, Brass. She remembered seeing Greg again, trying not to laugh at his jokes, trying to pretend she didn't care about him. Catherine remembered crying, throwing up, passing out, Grant. She remembered accidents in the lab, fights with her daughter, finding out Sam was her father. Mainly though, Catherine thought of the good times. She remembered whippes cream fights and making pancakes. How Greg's hair felt between her fingers. Playing with Lindsey with Greg, laughing at old cartoons together. She remembered going out for dinner with the CSI's and lab techs, dancing to the crazy music coming from the DNA lab.

Catherine wasn't ashamed to admit that her best memories were with Greg. When her life flashed before her eyes, everything was put in proportion. Nothing mattered. Nothing except friendship, family and love. Catherine vowed to go after Greg, not to let him say no. After her near-death experience, Catherine realised how much she really loved him and she wasn't prepared to ever let that go. One more thing flashed before Catherines eyes before Grant pulled the trigger. She saw her and Greg, lying down on some beach somewhere, their heads together and the sun shining on their faces, watching Lindsey play in the water. Catherine guessed this was the future and she wanted that. She wanted Greg. And he wanted her too. She was sure of that. And she wasn't about to take no for an answer.

* * *

Greg, on the opposite side of the hospital wall, was thinking about Catherine too. When he's seen Grant pointing the gun at her, he'd realised something. He did love her. More than anything. When he'd started to run, the only thing going through his head was that he had to save her. No matter what.

They'd been through a lot, they'd hurt each other too many times to count. But Greg had to admit that he was happiest when he was with her. He felt whole. As soon as things were back to normal, Greg swore that he would talk to her, tell her how he felt, see if she could speak to him after the things he'd said. See if she still loved him too.

Greg really did love Catherine, despite everything that had happened, he really loved her. He saw them together in the future, happy. And happiness is everything. Once you have that, nothing else matters. He loved her so much, and that was why, in the end, he was glad he'd jumped in front of the gun. He was glad he'd taken a bullet for her.


	25. The aftermath

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own CSI**

**Okay, this chapter is set in the present (yes, I know, two chapters in a row, you have a right to be confused) Anyway, what happened is it was one long chapter, but I split it into two shorter chapters. I hope this ending satisfies you. Enjoy.**

_Don't, don't you want me?_

_You know I can't believe it_

_When I hear that you won't see me_

_Don't, don't you want me?_

_You know I don't believe it_

_When you say that you don't need me_

* * *

It was Friday. The night sky was lit up with the bright lights of Las Vegas and the strip was a hive of activity, noise and colour. In a stone-coloured hospital on the outskirts of town, there was a pale blue room. It smelled of sterilizer and disinfectant and the life support machines hummed quietly in the background, almost too softly to hear. A man lay in the hospital bed, asleep. Through the wall, a woman sat, slumped in a waiting room chair, also asleep. Her friends had left a few hours ago, but she didn't want to. She had sat, waiting for visiting hours, waiting for news, not wanting to leave. He had lay, waiting for his friends, waiting for news, not wanting to fall asleep. But he did, and so did she. He was woken up by a short nurse with mousy brown hair and feckles on her snub nose. She gave him some more painkillers for his arm and brought him a tray of food, which he ate, even thought it tasted like mush. Meanwhile, a doctor was informing the only visitor left in the waiting room that she could see him in about an hour, after he'd absorbed his painkillers. Neither of them slept after that. The man could not get back to sleep, so he sat up in his hospital bed and waited for his visitors. The woman waited nervously, wondering what she was going to say to the man who had saved her life. More than once.

When the time came the woman was brought into the room by a round-faced nurse with tanned skin and black frizzy hair pulled back into a ponytail. She was told not to stay longer than an hour, then left alone with the man. They two people looked at each other for a while, uncsure of what to say. Then they both spoke at the same time.

"Greg I..."

"Catherine can..."

They stopped talking and laughed nervously.

"You first."

"No, you first."

"You."

"You."

"Alright. I just wanted to thank you. For taking the bullet, and for...for everything else you've ever done. I knoe now, that everything you did was for me, because you loved me and you wanted what was best for me and Lindsey. I'm sorry for pushing you away, and I understand why you said what you did. I haven't been fair, but I'm ready to be fair now. I'm ready to fix this. I love you Greg, and I am so, so sorry for everything I ever..."

Greg cut her off by sitting up in his hospital bed and leaning in to kiss her. She tilted her head to meet his and closed her eyes, melting at his touch. She entangled her fingers in his silky hair and let out a low moan as he parted his lips and slid his tongue into her mouth.

_This is what heaven feels like. _

When they finally broke apart, Greg began to talk.

"Catherine, I have loved you since our first night together, and yet I have a terrible way of showing it. I handled things badly and I wouldn't even listen to you when you tried to talk. Thank you for making the first step."

"It wasn't me, it was you. You were the one who searched for me, and tried to talk after the whole thing with Roy. I was the one treating you coolly all these years."

"But after what I did to you, it's understandable. I shouldn't have tried to take Lindsey away."

"It just shows you care for her more than yourself, you knew it would be hard on your relationship but you put your happiness at stake for my family. Greg, I understand everything that happened."

"I understand too Catherine. And now there's nothing I want more then to make up for all the time we wasted these last five years. As soon as I get out of here, let's do something really fun. Let's do loads of really fun things, let's do it all."

"I like the sound of that." she smiled, leaning into kiss him again.

* * *

When the frizzy-haired nurse, Laura Mitchells, arrived later to send the visitor home, she found her curled up in the hospital bed with the patient. The pair of them were fast asleep and had their arms wrapped tightly round each other, as if they could never let each other go. She smiled and decided to make allowances, just this once. Hospital procedure was nothing compared to love. Everything was nothing compared to love. She thought of her own husband, in Iraq, fighting for his country. She thought of stolen phone calls and muddy letters, and waiting at the airport with their five year-old daughter. Then she closed the door, leaving the sleeping lovers in peace.

* * *

Greg woke up feeling happier than he had done in a long time. Catherine went home to change and eat, then she had to go into work. At the end of shift she brought the rest of them to see Greg, who was getting better quickly. The doctor estimated that he would be out in a few more weeks. Everyone said hello to Greg and asked him how he was feeling, everyone brought presents, again. Catherine still didn't have anything to give him because she'd been too busy waiting for him to get better but he didn't care. They had each other and that was all they needed. As Nick said, in his new hospital playlist, "All You Need Is Love".

* * *

"So, Greg and I need to tell you something" Catherine told her friends as they sat around Greg's bed. "And I think the best way to tell you this is to go right back to the beginning."

Everyone nodded, a little confused.

"I didn't live in Montanna until I took this job. I moved around a lot for my mums...business...and one day I ran away. I came to Vegas and I got a job in the French Palace."

People tried to hide their surprise, disguising their gasps as sneezes.

"Anyway, I started drinking and taking...taking drugs. And Lindsey, she isn't the daughter of my ex-boyfriend from Montanna, she's the result of my boss, Grant, abusing me for years."

"Catherine..." Nick began, not believing what he was hearing "how come you never told us this before?"

"I was embarassed." she admitted.

"And where does Greg fit into all this?" Sara asked her.

"He met me one night when he was at the club, anyway he helped me out, a lot. But we had a disagreement so things became kind of...cool...between us."

"So wait, you two had a thing?" Warrick asked, gesturing Catherine and Greg and raising an eyebrow.

"Do. Not did." Catherine told him.

"Greg, is this true?" Sara asked, trying to take it all in.

"Yes, it is true. Catherine and I are together."

"Since when?" Nick wanted to know.

"Since yesterday when we worked things out." Greg told them, taking Catherines hand.

"Another thing, that bullet was meant for me." Catherine told her teamates. "Greg jumped in front of the gun."

There were more gasps and then Nick and Warrick patted Greg on the back.

"I can't believe I didn't see this. I had no idea you two had any sort of a history at all." Sara said.

"We were always very professional" Greg grinned.

"Grissom" Catherine asked, looking at their suspervisor. "Do you have anything you'd like to add to this conversation?"

"I never had a clue. None of us did. We're trained investigators and we never guessed. Looking at you now though it all makes sense. I wish you the best of luck."

"Thank you." Greg said, wrapping his arm around Catherine.

They all left half an hour later and Catherine stayed until it was time to go pick up Lindsey from school. Greg didn't mind. It was actually nice to have some alone time. There would be plenty of time to see the world later.


	26. Aqua

**DISCLAIMER: I still, twenty six chapters later, do NOT own CSI**

**This is the epilogue, set in season six, so three years after the chapters that have been set in the present and eight years after the chapters set in the past. You can probably do the math yourself, but I'll tell you anyway, Greg is thirty and Catherine is thirty-five. **

_It's much too late to find_

_When you think you've changed your mind_

_You'd better change it back or we will both be sorry_

_Don't you want me, baby?_

_Don't you want me, ohh?_

_Don't you want me, baby?_

_Don't you want me, ohh?_

* * *

"Another Pina Colada ma'am?" the tanned bartender asked, scooping up Catherine's empty glass.

"Thanks." she nodded, handing him Greg's empty glass too. "One for this guy as well."

"Certainly." the man replied, going back to bamboo hut turned bar.

"Greg." Catherine whispered. There was no response, so she repeated it again, louder. "Greg"

This time he woke up. "Wha?" he asked, sitting up straight on his deck chair.

"You were sleeping." she told him.

"I was?" he asked, rubbing his sandy blonde hair.

"Yes. And now you've messed up your hair." she replied, leaning forward to fix it.

She ran her fingers through it, savouring the silky softness of it beneath her fingertips.

"Mmmm..." Greg moaned, closing his eyes.

Catherine's fingers walked around the back of Greg's neck and down his spine.

He moaned again and Catherine pulled her hand away, aware that they were attracting several glares.

"Why'd you stop?" he asked her, looking up again with puppy dog eyes.

"People are staring." she whispered.

"So?"

"Greg..." she smiled, ruffling his hair once more for good measure.

"Fine." he sulked, taking their drinks from the bartender.

Catherine gazed over the top of her cocktail glass at the huge turquoise swimming pool. Looked at the children shooting down the waterslides, laughing and screaming. Looked at the people lazily floating on inflatable sunloungers, sipping their drinks. Looked at the familes putting on suncream, and the teenagers buying ice-creams. Catherine looked at the blue sky beyond their resort, at the plam trees and ever-present sun. Going to Hawaii had been Greg's idea, and it was their first holiday ever as a couple. She was enjoying it, a lot. Catherine looked at her pouty boyfriend, pretending to read a book about spiders that had been a christmas present from Grissom.

"Come on" he badgered. Let's go back to the hotel room. Lindsey's going to be at kid's camp for another hour.

"Alright" she whispered back, standing up. Hand in hand, they headed to room 104.

* * *

Later on they collected Lindsey from camp, and then went to a Hawaiin dancing worshop. The next day Greg tried to teach them how to surf, Lindsey was surprisingly good at it. On the Saturday, there was a huge barbeque that the whole resort came to, with a disco afterwards. They spent the rest of their time swimming, scuba-diving, windsurfing, hiking and cycling. They went sightseeing and toom lot's of photographs, ate some of the nicest food they had ever tasted and spent time lounging by the pool or beach. Greg insisted on making Catherine and Lindsey wear Hawaiin print dresses to match his shirt and Lindsey and Catherine painted Greg's fingernails while he was asleep. Greg and Lindsey became the best of friends and woke up at seven a.m. every morning to watch Spongbob Square Pants on T.V. in Nevada time. Lindsey started calling him Dad. Catherine liked that, and so did Greg.

* * *

When they got back to Vegas they showed everybody the photographs and made them all jealous by talking about the Hawaiin weather. Catherine started working an arson case with Warrick and Grissom, and Greg helped Nick and Sara with their double homicide. They went to a diner afterwards and laughed about their day, their coworkers and each other. Everything had gone back to normal. Greg loved being a CSI, and although lab rules forbade him from working cases with Catherine, they were happy that they got to see more of each other. Grant was arrested, trialed and convicted of multiple counts of rape, assualt and, in Catherine and Greg's case, attempted murder. He was going away for a long time.

The next day, Greg, Sara and Nick were chasing their suspect, who was attempting to flee to Europe. As they ran through security, to where the suspect was getting ready to board the plane, an aeroplane of several soldiers was landing. Greg watched them grab the small rucksacks that had held their whole lives for so long and run into the terminal, eager to see their loved ones. None of them knew this, but one of the soldiers was Thomas Mitchells, husband of Laura Mitchells, the nurse who had allowed Greg and Catherine to sleep in the same bed in the hospital. She believed that love could withstand any distance, and was much more important than money, greed or hospital procedure. She wasn't sure wether or not her husband was alive, and her face lit up when she saw him. He ran straight to her and kissed her, right there under the Arrivals sign, making passers-by stop and stare.

* * *

When Greg was released from the hospital, he moved in with Caterine and Lindsey. He went back to work and began trainging to work out in the field, a proper CSI. Greg and Catherine made each other happy. Sometimes, they made each other cry too. But in the end, you only remember the good things. The whipped cream fights and the making pancakes and the laughing at cartoon. You just remember the sunny days at the beach and the long nights spent dancing. In the end, life comes down to three things, friendship, family and love. And they had all three. In the end, that was what they remembered. Family, friendship and love. Lots of love.

**Well, that's all folks. ****If you've made it this far, thank you, and I hope you've enjoyed this story. I might do a sequel one day, but for now I want to work on other CSI pairings and genres, like I might do a kidnapping story or a humour fic next. Most of my stories will probably be starring Greg Sanders, so I might do some Sandle next. I want to try a few things and decided what I like best, I'm new to this. If you liked this story, please check out Making The Cut, my other CSI story, which is shorter, less intense and focuses more on the case. If you want a sequel to this or have any other ideas, please let me know. **


End file.
